Dracula's Rant
by RozzandMaya
Summary: The End Of All Things Must Finally Come. You guessed it. The Tirade is Closing.
1. Default Chapter

I do not own Dracula. I cavort with Dracula. But I do not own him. I also do not own Van Helsing. However, I don't cavort with him and really couldn't care less, so it doesn't really matter. I do have some claim to the ponytail, as I have been using it for years. I do not have any claim to the ponytail clip, but nobody's perfect.

Here is Dracula's Rant:

* * *

Camera focuses in and out, revealing a man in a fantastic coat that would take years to button, boots, several gallons of wig, and the worlds best ponytail clip. He is standing in front of a green screen and a microphone is stuck on his collar.

"Roight mates, is this on?" He says in what is meant to be an extremely Transylvanian accent. "G'day. Oi'm Dracula. An Oi just 'ave a few things to get orf me chest an fair dinkum Oi'm gunna do ut."

There is general clambering from offscreen and a someone's arm makes a 'cut' signal across the lens. The camera blinks and focuses again.

"Thith ith thutch an honor to be able to thschare my obtherwationth about the movie Wan Helthing."

"GET IT RIGHT OK?" yells someone, and the camera blinks once again.

"—or Oi'll do me block an knock off you smart-aleck galah."

"GAAAAAHHH" Shouts the camera man. "You mess up every time!"

Camera blinks.

"Good evening. My name is Dracula. I have a few statements to make regarding my recent film, Van Helsing." Dracula smiles then looks offscreen, "Did Oi do ut that time mate?"

"Just keep going."

"I remember, some years back, reading an expose of the classic fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood by none other than the Big, so-called Bad, Wolf." Dracula does the smile and turn sideways thing, "It explained that the wolf was merely trying to borrow a cup of sugar from Red Riding Hood's grandmother, with no dishonorable intentions whatsoever. Through a series of misrepresentations, and revisionist legal proceedings, the story became the fairy tale we know today. Now you may object, saying 'Vampires are necessarily evil, who could possibly convince me that the story of Dracula is anything but a tiresome compilation of horror?'"

Dracula leans forward and smiles again, "I could."

"Keep it up dude, we're getting you more props and something for you to sit on." The offscreen voice says. Dracula fidgets a little.

The camera blinks.

Dracula is now standing beside a movie projector with a paused screenshot from Van Helsing on it. He is holding a laser pen. "Now in this scene, we see the feudal occupants of my lands. My legal thralls, if you will, desperately charging up to a dark castle demanding the death of a alleged grave-robber. I think you will agree with me that this does indeed constitute a violation of the standard lease, which states, if I'm not mistaken that should the peasants revolt, I am legally charged with the suppression of the rebellion through military force so that it should not grow in substance enough to constitute a national threat. Fer all you Aussies, in plain-speak, that means the moment they jack up, they've gone a million an Oi can give the mob a belt in the lug and no mug cop can say any different."

There are suppressed snickers from offscreen.

Dracula starts fiddling with with one of his earrings, "Oi'm doin' me best, an if it's a rum job, go easy."

A hand reaches on and gives Dracula a script.

"Thanks mate," He opens it. "Now here is my story. I was sitting at home one evening, having a nice chat with my good friend Victor Frankenstein. He was doing a few experiments and such, and had brought along his only son, who was tragically afflicted with SSM, Severe Shakespearean Monologue. Now the poor unfortunates with this disease are in a constant state of what appears to be skin rot, and the fusing of the pelvic joints causes a most unlikely hobble which is only compounded by the irresistible desire to wear platform shoes."

Dracula looked up and tapped the laser pen against his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps the worst manifestation of this disease is the involuntary compulsion to speak the King's English in grammatically perfect complete sentences." He shakes his head tragically, "Victor and I were discussing what might be done for poor Monster, as we called the lad, and who, I might add, was strapped to a table because of his propensity for violence."

"It is true, I was merely discussing the medical state of my friend's son. You see, I had even come up with a plan that might cure the dear lad. You might say, 'why should we believe you?' Well simply, I was there."

Camera blinks and Dracula is now sitting in an armchair with his hands steepled pensively, "Well we arrived at the conclusion that a severe electric shock might just be the thing to knock poor dear Monster back to his senses, but tragically, as we were positioning the electrodes, Monster broke free and dashed Victor's head against the table. The man was insensate, staggering around with blood dripping down from a gaping wound in his head.

'Monster,' he yelled, and terrified that the boy would do him further harm in his insanity, he grabbed a sword. 'I cannot hear!' was the next astonished cry from Victor, for the severity of the blow had dashed in his eardrums.

With blood streaming down his head at that rate, I knew that he would suffer an aneurism very soon, and so I tried to come to his aid. I called his name and tried to come near him, but he swung the sword at me and insisted that I was only Monster, trying to trick daddy once again." Dracula was cleaning the dirt from under the long pointy fingernail on the pinky of his right hand. "What would any self-respecting human being have done for his friend? I ran myself through on the sword in order to get close to him and tried to administer first aid. The wound was much deeper than I though, and right in one of the carotid arteries too.

I dimly remembered reading somewhere that vampire blood had healing properties not just for the vampire, but for other humans as well. So, holding Victor securely so he could not cut me with the sword any more than he already had, I bit my lip and placed my mouth over the wound in the carotid." Dracula shrugs, "It was quite a success really. The wound healed right up, but poor stupid Victor thought I had decided to vampirize him and promptly died of heart failure." Dracula massages one eyebrow, "I am surrounded by idiots." He folds his hands, "Well, Monster laughed evilly and gave me that speech from Macbeth that begins with 'Is this a dagger I see before me.' I tried to reason with him, but he insisted on taking his daddy to the mill, saying that he would make a flavorful addition to the absinthe brewery." Dracula frowned, "Me, I don't approve of alcohol, even the weak kind. I never drink…wine."

"Just get on with it!" the Cameramen shout.

Dracula gives them the 'go ahead and impale me see if I care' look. "Well Monster chucked me into the fireplace and took Dr. Frankenstein off to carry on with his evil plans. Of course I got out and regenerated, and then I transformed and flew off to find him.

Now, I have a few words to say about my transformed state. Some people have referred to it as the 'hell beast' and see it as the reflection of my true nature. I think this is clearly just jealousy because I can fly. They say the so-called ugliness of my transformed state is proof that I am at heart an evil creature. Now, ugliness is no reason to hate anybody. Look at all the things that are ugly in this world. Horses for one, and human babies. I've never seen anything as ugly as human babies. Just like little wrinkled old men. No one wants to send _them_ to the pit of hell now do they?

I would also like to state that I have never made a pact of any kind with Satan. Oi had tea an buckjumpers with 'im once out in the bush, but—"

"Sir, your accent is slipping again." The offstage voice says again.

"Sorry mate," Dracula composes himself, "So off I went to the windmill to find poor little Monster. It really is quite exhilarating being able to fly. I rather enjoy it. All that lovely wind whistling through your hair." He primps his hair, "So I get to the windmill and it's been burned to the ground. Stupid peasants. They always go off like a loose cannon every full moon."

"What about the brides?" Several male voices call from offscreen.

"What brides?" Dracula turns around and looks at them.

"The brides in all the skimpy negligee!" There are excited noises and general clambering.

The camera zooms in on Dracula's face.

"_Brides_?" He says. "That's _polygamy_. What do you think I am, Mormon? _Muslim?_" Dracula begins grumbling under his breath about 'bloody Turks' and 'that mug queen brother of mine Radu.'

"But what about the brides?" A few voices moan forlornly.

"The three young ladies you are referring to," Dracula says sternly, "Are mental patients of mine, afflicted with a certain condition involving…well let's just say they are living proof that blonde comes in more than one color. Their parents wanted to give them more exposure to life than they would get in their normal shopping mall, so they sent them off to my Dracula's School of Vampires and Vampirism." Dracula was still glowering, "And I _do_ have a license for it. It's registered under California's 9th precinct judicial district." Dracula looks finished for a second but launches in again, "And they don't wear negligee! They wear standard Los Angeles Unified School District school uniforms! And they are FIFTEEN! And they are the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE! You think I like them drooling all over me 'yes my lord' 'no my lord' 'whatever are we to do my lord'!"

Dracula's eyes do the blue shiny thing briefly, but he soon calms down enough to speak coherently. "The whole affair with Victor was terribly tragic. I couldn't even find his body. And who do you think showed up on my doorstep the very next day? Young Velkan Valarius." Dracula rolls his eyes, "Bloke got himself bit by a werewolf and was all wet and slobbery. Now I don't understand why these undead creatures always come crawling to me in their plight. I mean, don't I try to have a reputation for being the most slimy being to walk the planet? I try, honestly really I do. They just love me. Everyone loves me." Dracula primps his hair again. "So I took Velkan in and gave him some more stylish clothes. Tragic boy really. Desperately clumsy, for one thing. Always trying to perform heroics with not even a thought of a plan 'b'."

Dracula sighs.

The cameramen commiserate.

"And _then_ do you know who shows up on my doorstep?" Dracula says, "That no-good two-timing phony amnesiac womanizer Abraham Van Helsing!" Dracula pauses for dramatic effect, "Of course, when _I_ knew him, he was a transvestite cabaret dancer named Gabriel!" Dracula laughs maniacally for some time, looking off screen every once in a while.

"Aren't you going to do that cool lightning effect, mate?" He asks.

"Sorry sir," there is a faint rustling noise, and then a tremendous crack of thunder and lightning.

"AHAHAHAHA!" Dracula laughs again for quite some time. "All you devoted fans of Gabriel out there, why did you think he had such girly hair? He spends three hours in the bathroom every morning curling it! AHAHAHA!" Dracula wipes a humorous tear out of his eye.

"Excuse me," says a cameraman, "But how would you know what goes on in Van Helsing's bathroom in the morning, sir?"

Dracula glares at him, "Are you suggesting….?"

Suddenly a figure on fire staggers across the camera and falls to the ground on the other side, writhing in agony. Two on-set firefighters put him out.

"Peasant." Dracula comments.

"I would also like to protest the slanderous character defamation I have repeatedly suffered." Dracula turns back to the camera and smiles. "There is a serious misconception even among my adoring public that I am the villain, and Van Helsing is the good guy." He sighs dramatically. "Honestly the entire vampire school only killed one or two people a month, and that was mostly Aleera. She's just out of control that one. Her parents told me put her in a sack and drown her."

Dracula stares at the ceiling and taps his feet. "Oi just forgot what Oi was goin' to soaiy."

He starts muttering about kangaroos and waltzing matilda. "Oh yeah. Oi remember naow."

He clears his throat and fast forwards the movie to a screen shot of him laughing his head off. "Some people have mistaken this whole scene. I _do_ have feelings, as this picture proves. This is my 10:00 drama class, and that is me demonstrating for Aleera, Verona, and Marishka that famous 'hollow' monologue of Harry the Panda in the famous play, 'Bob and the Killer Pumpkins.'" He looks up at the sky and yells, "Hey mate, can you give 'em a dekko at that picture?"

"Oi'll give her a go." The author types frantically in Microsoft Word.

(for picture-less it's the shot at 36 min 45 seconds on a dvd player)

"There, how's that, mate?" the author says.

"It's a beut, mate."

"Nice shot up the conk, mate."

"Strewth, Oi hadn't noticed."

"Isn't Australian vernacular amusing?"

"Oi'm Wallachian." Dracula says, "And I think you're looking everything up in a dictionary as we go along. I've never had anyone keep up this long."

Author looks angry and pushes the 'smite' button on the keyboard a few times. "I'm Australian by blood if not by geography!" the author yells as thunder and lighning crash in the background. There's a zapping sound and the Author falls off the chair that h/s/I is sitting on.

"Where was I?" Dracula asks. He looks admiringly at the picture. "Oh yeah. Emotions. Well, I think this picture says it all. I love my life." He scratches his head and manages not to mess up a single strand of wig, "That was a hilarious play. Marishka played the evil panda legion of doom and Verona was Bob, the hero who saved the world from torture by pumpkins. Really entertaining, if you ask me. We were going to wait until the kids were born and have them be the pumpkins."

Dracula's lower lip starts to tremble. He sniffles a bit.

"What's the matter sir?" the handy dialogue-filling cameramen say. In unison.

Dracula breaks down, "My children," he blubbers tragically into a handkerchief marked with a big red D on one corner.

"Aw." Says everyone.

"I don't know what I did." Dracula wipes his nose on his sleeve, "I just come home one day and this man was shooting them in front of me one by one." Tears stream down his face, "First was Anastasia, then Fernando, Sveyn and Hubert one after another."

"…" says everyone, in shock, realizing that 'aw' was rather inappropriate.

"And then the twins. And they had just started piano lessons." Dracula slumps back and sobs, "I can still see their startled faces as they were ripped apart limb from limp." He stares at his shaking hands, "I can still see their blood on my hands, and the tiny feet and hands lying strewn across the floor, their fragile skulls dripping brains through my fingers. And…that man….just did it to get my _attention_. Without a thought of their lives. They were just nuisances to be crushed to him. My precious children." His breath catches in his throat, "My precious children."

Dracula leans his head into his hands. He slowly shuts his eyes tight.

Everyone stands shell-shocked for a minute. Then they unanimously turn and grab a weapon to attack Van Helsing with. Some are armed only with pencils, paperclips, and an iron will. Quietly, silently, they organize themselves into a lynch mob and march to the next studio where Van Helsing is also filming a 'commentary about the movie' and drag him away.

Will vigilante justice be done? Will Dracula ever become a father? What does all the Australian dialect actually mean? Find out next time in….

A Dance of Pants, or, You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore.

* * *

Author: Hope you like it, there will be more ranting in the future.I had to stop here because it was getting a little macabre. I really empathize with Drac if you couldn't tell by now. Now I'm going to go off and cry for him. Poor guy. Sniff.


	2. The Plot Thinkens

Author's private rant: I don't own Dracula. Still. I know. It sucks.

Knnyphph - I'm glad you liked it. There will be more. Btw, I went to your page and found out that … you invented the BOAUK! I love that fic! More, more! Also the VH comic thingey was quite possibly the single most funny thing I have ever seen in my life. Gives me ideas…

Nikoru Sanzo – Oh you'd be surprised at what _really_ happened in Van Helsing. It all depends on your point of view. Drac and I are really hung up on the fact that Van Helsing is a child murderer.

Sango-2099 – I'm convinced that VH must have been set in New South Wales. Are there any _non_-Australians in it?….well…the corset Barbie, I guess. Thanks for the review!

* * *

And now we resume…..

Shot of wavy-haired man in a duster and hat that he bought off of the Costume Auction from Man From Snowy River. Strangely enough, he is waving an Australian flag in one hand and singing 'There Was A Red-Back On the Toilet Seat When I Was There Last Night.' He also has a crossbow slung over his shoulder in a heroic fashion, and several inflatable crosses and silver stakes attached to his belt.

"No mate, me name is Gabriel, even Blind Freddy could see ut." He is protesting desperately to an unsympathetic bottle of absinthe.

"This is why Australians normally only drink _beer_." The handy camera-men comment as they are overrun by the lynch mob.

"Oi didn't see 'im in the dark but boy I felt 'is bite" Van Helsing sings in his best 'oh what a beautiful morning' voice.

Several of the lynch mob are shocked that the Wolverine could display such culture as to obtain the leading role in Oklahoma. They pause in their headlong pursuit for a moment, but soon the rallying cry of 'Dracula's children!' cause them to regain their senses and rejoin the group.

"Death's too good for him!"

"Take away his knockout spray!"

"Don't anyone try to stab him with a hypodermic!"

"Death's too good for him!"

Van Helsing is dragged into the studio summarily placed next to Our Hero and is forced to sit down and slapped around until he is reasonably sober. Several fans rejoice at the slapping bit.

Dracula pulls his head out of his hands and looks balefully at Van Helsing, "Can't you just leave me alone."

Van Helsing looks surprised, "G'day mate, got the wog?" He says in what is meant to be an extremely hip American accent.

Dracula groans.

"Oh yeah, you're that Dracula guy. I thought I killed you."

"Easy to forget a guy like me." Dracula glowers. "What, were you busy fighting off the paparazzi?"

Van Helsing primps his hair, "Actually…"

Dracula jumps to his feet and shrieks, "You can't primp you hair like that! That's my line!" He then calms down and appears to be listening to something.

"What now?" Van Helsing searches around inside the pockets of his Australian Oilskin Duster ™ until he finds another bottle of absinthe.

Dracula is busy doing the handclapping version of the cha-cha. "Just how much of that stuff have you drunk?"

Van Helsing frowns, shrugs and downs the entire bottle.

Dracula's handclapping gets faster and loses all sense of rhythm.

Van Helsing takes a bow.

The cameramen/lynch mob, having nothing to do and no purpose now that Dracula has an onstage foil, go on strike and begin learning Portuguese.

Dracula grabs the absinthe bottle, "You know there is a label on the bottom that says 'Rat Poison/Paint Thinner' don't you?"

Van Helsing slurps a strand of drool happily.

"You see, that's your problem!" Dracula stands in his rant pose and lighning goes off in the distance, "You just don't care about anyone do you! You didn't care about my kids did you! Huh? Did you!" Dracula does the finger-under-chin thing and tosses Van Helsing across the room. "Bot."

Van Helsing wipes his mouth heroic-ly, "Galah."

"Wowser."

"Winge-er."

"Blow-in."

"Bludge."

"Jackeroo."

"Earbasher."

"_Drongo_." Dracula finishes and smirks, "It much be such a curse to be the left-hand of God."

Van Helsing pounds his fists into the ground and curses the fact that as an angelic being on a mission from God he can only use five curse words a day.

"Now, Van Halen." Dracula sits back and looks superior, "I have several charges to bring against you in this improvised court of law."

Van Helsing looks hurt, "That's Van Johnson."

"No, I'm sure the second one started with an H." Dracula waves the matter away with both five-fingered hands, "I charge you with the murder of twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty two of my children, three of my… vampire mental patients."

"If they were your mental patients how did you have twelve thousand eight hundred and twenty two children?"

Dracula looks uncomfortable, "You really don't remember the history we had together, do you."

Van Helsing looks ill.

"Anyways, that and you killed Velkan Valerius, and you punched Anna Valerius in the face, and then sprayed her with knockout gas for take two, and then you killed her too. And you killed several villagers."

"But I saved the cow!" Van Helsing protests.

Dracula shakes his head, "I don't want to hear it. For all I know, you killed Doc Robbin. I charge you with murder in the first degree! What defense can you give!"

Lighning crashes.

Van Helsing shrugs, "I was under the influence of alcohol at the time."

Dracula's hair is starting to look frazzled. He walks to the nearest wall and walks up it to stand on the ceiling, back to Van Helsing, then he crosses his arms, "That's no excuse."

"I get way cooler parts in movies too." Van Helsing laughs and hiccups a little.

"No you don't. I got to be Professor Moriarty!"

"Wolverine."

"And I got that cool part in Mission Impossible Two!"

"Wolverine."

"_And_ I got to be Sherlock Holmes too!"

"Duke Leopold Alexis Elijah Walker Gareth Thomas Mountbatten."

Dracula is so weirded out that he falls from the ceiling and hits his head on the floor, "And you're _proud_ of that?"

Van Helsing nods his head rapidly, "I even got to play 'Modern Major General' on the piano. I'm a triple-threat. And you have absolutely no sense of rhythm."

"Do too." Dracula does a slow circle waltz thing to prove it.

"At least I don't lose a limb in every single stinking movie I'm in."

Dracula looks nervous. "Eeeee. You're right."

"That one bit in MI2 with the cigar snip is my number one cringe moment for all movies anywhere." The author's voice wafts down from the sky. Apparently h/s/I has regained h/s/I's chair.

"Ignore her." Dracula says, "Really, it's for the best."

Van Helsing fires his crossbow up at the ceiling just to make sure.

Several lights go out. Some cameramen stop learning Portuguese to watch.

"Yeah, that cigar thing was harsh." Van Helsing shudders. "So with that, and the fact that I cut off your ring finger, how many do you have left….lets see…ten minus two…or was it eleven minus two….argg…I'm a theater major I have no time for math."

Dracula holds up his hands.

"NO. Don't show me that's just gross!" Van Helsing screams, "Oh, hey, actually it doesn't look all that bad."

"That's because I'm not actually missing any."

"Oh." Van Helsing scratches his head, "It's because vampires have twice the regenerative healing powers of Wolverine, right?"

"No, it's sleight of hand. They didn't even have to do special effects." Dracula flips a finger down. "See?"

Van Helsing shrieks, "OH the HORROR!"

"And if I flip them _all _down but this one, do you know what it means?"

"He's lost ALL HIS FINGERS BUT THE MIDDLE ONE! Ahhh I can't take it anymore."

Dracula rolls his eyes. "My adoring public, members of the jury, I think I have proved my point. This sorry excuse for a vampire hunter doesn't even have the right to call himself an Aussie. He's just about as Australian as the _author_ for crying out loud!"

Van Helsing stands up and puts his hands on his hips. He is wearing boots so he's about, what, six foot seven? Anyways, Dracula's nose is smashed into his chest, "Care to repeat that, mate?"

"Don't you ever use deodorant?"

Van Helsing takes a deep breath, "Just what type of a new mug do you want, dingo?"

"And I think the fact that you're wearing four-inch heels is ridiculous."

Van Helsing takes another deep breath, "Now if you don't want a blue, you square off now."

"And your parents are Pommies."

Van Helsing takes yet another deep breath, "Are you sure you don't want to apologize?"

Dracula smiles. "Pretty sure."

"Ok then. I guess everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

"Right then." Dracula says, "Back to my rant. As I was saying, this sorry excuse for a living being showed up on my doorstep one night with that corset Barbie chick."

"What was her name again, I forgot." Van Helsing says with all the passion of the lover eternally separated from his soulmate.

"Anna Valerius." Dracula says in a frazzled voice, "Don't interrupt me. And they went went immediately to the new baby nursery that I had set up in the room across the hallway from mine. You know, so I could hear them if they woke up from a bad dream." Dracula shoots Van Helsing the patented 'look of death' "Anyway, this jerk and the corset walk up and start ripping into the special cribs that I special ordered from Ralph Lauren only a week before. They were great, you know, had this special heating liquid quilted…thing that was ergonomic and had an interior heating system. Nothing but the best for my precious children. Anyways, he mistakes the electrical cords for the electric waterbed for some kind of evil plot to bring them alive. Like I would buy cribs for dead children."

"They were all still and unmoving and stuff. How could I know?" Van Helsing looks hurt.

"Well what did you think they were?"

Van Helsing shrugs, "Well they looked like gross sticky womb kind of things that had been attached to electricity in order to bring the monsters to life."

Dracula shakes his head, "You see, that is where you go wrong mate. You are such a pessimist. Use some logic. If they were gigantic womb things did it ever occur to you that the birthing process would have been not only extremely graphic and painful, but also fatal? And then how would I have fathered five thousand children?"

"Ten thousand."

"No I only fathered half." Dracula makes a cutting motion across his neck and gives Van Helsing another patented 'look of death.' "Can we discuss this later?"

"And with that we will leave the audience to make their own conclusions." The author says, but no one is listening anyway.

Van Helsing goes pale. "Only half."

"You know."

"No, I really don't."

"That summer in Paris….you know."

Van Helsing swallows a large lump in his throat and his voice goes up a few octaves, "Oh _that_ summer in Paris."

Dracula nods slowly.

"So how about the rest of that story. I thought you were on a rant you know. You haven't been talking much, so I guess you'd better get back to telling the story and all." Van Helsing tries to find something for his hands to do.

Dracula sighs, "So the fearless vampire hunters run around and start maiming my kids and blowing their heads off. And then while Van Helsing goes off to find me and murder my children in front of my face, Anna Valerius goes off and tries to kill her brother. Yeah." Dracula shakes his head, "Messed up family. She runs right in when I'm giving him that shock treatment for SSM, or more precisely the sub-category of the disease that leaves the victim completely hairless and predisposed to Clinique body oil. I was giving him very precise and controlled treatments."

"You were laughing like a supervillain, how was I to know?"

"You're interrupting again."

"Well you were walking all over the walls and making supervillain faces and laughing and dancing in circles and generally reveling in the thunderstorm."

"Did it ever occur to you that I am merely eccentric? I'm old and rich. I have a right. When five hundred years old you reach, look as good you will not. I have to be eccentric, I'm gorgeous." Dracula gives his hair the patented 'poof' "Enough about me. Anyways, this child murderer walks in, and starts killing my children." Dracula's lower lip starts trembling, "I'll kill you for that later, but now on with my story. So I walk in very angry, as you would imagine any father to be at this moment. _I_ thought I did a rather good job of controlling my temper, though. I didn't even maim him. I always thought that was rather magnanimous of me."

"So did the author." The author says from the sky.

Dracula picks up a chair and throws it up off the camera screen. There is a squeak that is cut off short and a series of muffled thuds.

"I think you killed her." Van Helsing points out as blood starts dripping down like rain.

Dracula smiles, "You know, I think I actually _did!_" He stands under the blood with his mouth open and starts humming 'Singing in the Rain.'

Van Helsing starts to do some soft-shoe.

Then Dracula reaches over and……

The chapter ended because the author died.

Will the story continue? With a _ghost_ author? Will Van Helsing ever realize his true past?

Find out next time in: An Australian in Transylvania, or How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?


	3. Sancho Panza and the mistaken identity

Disclaimer: I do not own Dracula, but I would rent him for a couple of weeks if I could. I also do not own Van Helsing, but might hire him for a gardener or something if I get bored with having Erik the Phantom of the Opera hanging around my house. I DO however, own several lovely e-mail reviews which I CHERISH TO MY HEART with all the deepest gratitude and poetic feeling I can muster.

Camera has smears of blood on the lens. Dracula leans forward and wipes it off with one finger.

"That is so gross." Van Helsing looks up from his engrossing one-man game of cat's cradle, "Come on, I need you to hold the string again while I do this one thing."

Dracula is busy sucking happily on his finger. "Oh stop being squeamish. It's only ketchup."

"You are participating in brutally murdering a vegetable!" Van Helsing drops the string games and freezes. "You son of the devil!"

"Actually they're not vegetables, they're only fruits."

Dracula and Van Helsing look at each other. Then they get up and start looking under the furniture that was smashed when Dracula killed the author.

"Actually I'm not under the furniture, I'm only over here." Carl waves nervously at the camera from one corner of the room. "Hi mom. Hi Frodo. Sam."

"What in the name of all that is unholy and blasphemous is that!" Dracula points a horrified finger at Carl.

Van Helsing looks sheepish, "This is my comic relief man. I hired him so I would look more heroic." He walks over and throws an arm around Carl's shoulders in a carefully platonic gesture. "Carl the Friar, meet Dracula the Dark Lord of Evil and the First Blood Vampire Spawned from Satan, Master of All Things That Go Bump in the Night, Vladislaus Draculea the Third."

Dracula makes a growling noise and reaches for Van Helsing's throat, "I'm not evil I'm just misunderstood!"

Van Helsing goes pale and tries to hide behind a bookcase. When he realizes that he won't fit he throws his string game at Dracula, "Take that Obsessive-Compulsive Vampire!"

Dracula looks at the string game, "Oooh a puzzle. I have to count all the braids in the string now…"

"Ah, excuse me." Carl says timidly.

"Not now, can't you see I'm busy." Dracula is going crosseyed trying to count the strings.

"Actually I'm not a Friar, I'm only a Nun."

Dracula drops the string game. Van Helsing stops trying to shove his nose between two books.

"A Nun?" they both say at the same time.

Dracula bursts in to maniacal laughter that sparks off several small and somewhat dramatically localized thunder and lighting storms. The now fluently Portuguese speaking cameramen and lighting techs applaud heartily and begin a heartfelt study of the healing properties of Yogurt.

"Don't laugh, it's true." Carl looks hurt, "Besides, that's gender discrimination and I thought you were supposed to be _tolerant_. You don't care about my feelings Van Helsing! You just drag me on your damn fool idealistic crusades like some kind of angelic instrument of judgment and you never even ask me 'Carl, do you want to go to Transylvania or would you rather spend a week at a resort in Aruba' or 'Carl, I think you look tired, I'll carry our arsenal of weapons for a while' or 'Carl, don't be frightened I'll take care of you.' All you do is think of yourself! Just because you're older and the cardinal likes you and you're in charge. All you care about is glory and battles and quests!" Carl sniffs, "You're just like Boromir!" He bursts into nunly sobs.

"You said a bad word!" Van Helsing points out with a shocked expression.

"I said I was only a Nun!" Carl wails.

Dracula shakes his head. "Pitiful. And so nuns and friars can swear but monks can't."

"Well," Van Helsing gives Carl another platonic squeeze, "Archangels and the Left Hand of God are limited to only five swear words a day. So I guess it's a perk that comes with status."

"Or the PG-13 rating." Carl points out.

"Then that must make me infinitely your superior because I can swear all I want." Dracula counter-points out. "Stop interrupting my rant."

"But I want to rant too." Carl sniffles.

"No, I won't allow it."

"But what about the Equal Credit Oppurtunity Act? You can't discriminate. It's illegal."

Dracula looks foiled for a moment. He shifts around uncomfortably.

"He's Aussie, tell 'im that Yank laws don't apply." The Author says helpfully.

Dracula looks up, horrified, "But you're dead!"

"Only as dead as you."

"My point exactly." Dracula throws another chair up at the ceiling just for good measure.

The Author slowly pulls a chair leg out of h/s/I's chest and smiles, "Ith thith your thilver thtake?" H/s/I says in a fantastically good Dracula voice imitation that sends h/s/I's family into hiding for a week.

"No, it's my wooden chair leg." Dracula zaps the Author with a bolt of lightning and knocks h/s/I out. "Bloody feminist."

Carl looks up wonderingly, "Is she a nun too?"

"Sister Margaret Flukezoik FoiGras." The Author says.

"You're supposed to be out cold." Dracula zaps her again. Then he reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a cell phone.

"Wow. I'm Sister Margaret Petunia…or something, maybe it's 'Geranium' or 'Pansy' or something. I can't remember." Carl says and scratches his wimpled head.

"Hello Igor? Can you send Velkan over? I have a snack for him…"

"What does your convent do?" Carl asks. "All we ever do is sing vespers and create exploding balls of flame. Most of the time I work in a munitions factory. I think my convent is very focused on humanitarian work. Peace on earth, and all that."

"My convent buys lavender kitchen appliances and flashy underwear." The Author says just before a rather soggy werewolf with nice abs sticks her head in his mouth and drags her away.

Dracula closes the cell phone with a satisfied smile. "Now where was I?"

"If you won't be needing me anymore, I'd like to join the cameramen's yogurt Jacuzzi party." Van Helsing attempts to sneak off.

"I still have to kill you for murdering my children." Dracula grabs him and pulls him back. "And I'm indicting Carl too as an accessory. He created the murder weapons used to not only murder my children, but my mental patients-that-have-been-called-my-brides, my ball guests at my summer palace, and also attempt to kill _me_."

Carl looks squeamishly pale, "I never thought of it that way."

"Oh face up to it Carl!" Van Helsing strikes a heroic pose. "Be tough."

"But I told you I wasn't a field man. You wouldn't listen. I like to sit at home in an office."

"Just SHUT UP both of you!" Dracula hollers, "This is my TV show and I'm giving the rant!" He smiles warmly at the camera. "I had sent my children off with my mental patients on a field trip to visit the historic windmill in the lower meadow…"

"And one of them got boogers on my window!" Carl says excitedly. "It was horrible and green and gross."

"Haven't you ever dealt with schoolchildren before?" Dracula looks down his rather more than aristocratically large nose at Carl, "Silly nun. Well _while_ my children were on their kindergarten field trip."

"And I was being a hero!" Carl claps his hands.

"_While_ my children were on their kindergarten field trip, Anna Valerius was killing off my household staff!"

"Who?" Van Helsing asks.

"The _corset Barbie_. How many times do I have to tell you?"

"Well I am an amnesiac."

"In every movie you are in you're an amnesiac." Dracula crosses his arms, "Does that mean you're an amnesiac in real life?"

"Wait…I do movies?"

Dracula turns very resolutely toward the camera again, "Anyways, my butler Ronald was preparing a vat of liquid nitrogen for the children's science class…you know, the kind that you put a daisy in and it turns all hard and crunchy? Well I had to have a huge vat so each one of them could do the experiment and Ronald was stirring it—"

"Daisy! That's it!" Carl shouts pointlessly.

"—And Anna Valerius jumps him and smashes him into the side of the tank and shoves him in. With absolutely no provocation whatever. And then when Lousia Mae tried to stop her and call for help, Anna threw her in too. The science experiment was absolutely ruined, and you know how strict the Los Angeles School District is. I just knew that I'd get a call from the County Superintendent on a truancy charge or something. But I always knew I'd homeschool my children so I could protect them from prejudice about their having wings and fangs and things. People are so insensitive these days."

"You planned to homeschool ten thousand children?" Van Helsing snorts. "I think you're delusional."

"I always believed in large families." Dracula says in harsh clipped syllables, "I have four legitimate brothers, and I always enjoyed tortu…er _playing_ with them when I was younger."

"You don't have four brothers." Van Helsing strikes another heroic pose and gives the brim of his hat a rakish tilt.

Carl wanders off camera.

"I do." Dracula insists.

"Name them."

"Mircea, Radu, Vlad and Mircea." Dracula thinks for a while, "…and Mihail. And me, of course."

"See!" Van Helsing says, "What kind of fool do you take me for. You can't have two brothers named Vlad and two brothers named Mircea in the same family."

"They were hereditary names." Dracula sticks his lip out.

"And they're all vampires?"

"All except Vlad. He was a monk. Didn't hold with vampirism. He said it was frivolous."

Van Helsing is stunned, "Carl you have to hear this."

A yogurt covered blob wanders back on camera, "What?"

"Vlad Dracula is a monk."

Carl faints. He is dragged offscreen by a yogurt covered soggy werewolf wearing a party hat and a towel.

"That looks like some party," Van Helsing comments, "Want to go join it?"

"No. You're just trying to prolong your life by distracting me. I have to finish my rant." Dracula sits Van Helsing down in one of the few remaining chairs, "Now stay there." He turns back to the camera, "After killing my Head Butler and one of the Houskeepers, the corset Barbie started climbing all over my house like some kind of monkey and she finally ended up on the roof where Velkan was getting a suntan." Dracula leans toward the camera, "Yes I can go outside in the day. That is another common misconception about this movie Van Helsing. Contrary to popular thought, most of it takes place during the day. I have no problems with sunshine."

Van Helsing's eyes go blank and stare off into the distance. "This vampire which is amongst us is of himself so strong in person as twenty men; he is of cunning more than mortal, for his cunning be the growth of ages; he have still the aids of necromancy, which is, as his etymology imply, the divination by the dead, and all the dead that he can come nigh to are for him at command; he is brute, and more than brute; he is devil in callous, and the heart of him is not; he can, within limitations, appear at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to him; he can, within his range, direct the elements; the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and the bat the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. He can see in the dark no small power this, in a world which is one half shut from the light. Ah, but hear me through. He can do all these things, yet he is not free. Nay; he is even more prisoner than the slave of the galley, than the madman in his cell. He cannot go where he lists; he who is not of nature has yet to obey some of nature's laws why we know not. He may not enter anywhere at the first, unless there be some one of the household who bid him to come; though afterwards he can come as he please. His power ceases, as does that of all evil things, at the coming of the day. Only at certain times can he have limited freedom. If he be not at the place whither he is bound, he can only change himself at noon or at exact sunrise or sunset. These things are we told, and in this record of ours we have proof by inference." Van Helsing belches contentedly.

There is a long silence.

"Are you finished?"

Van Helsing scratches his head, pulls something out of his ear and pops it in his mouth.

"You see, he can't even remember when he used to talk like that every day." Dracula rants on, "Here is the great Van Helsing!" He laughs, "Trained by Stockmen and Swagmen from Walla Walla to Brisbane."

"Raindrops on Roses and Whiskers on Kittens…" wafts a faint gurgly voice that sounds like Carl.

"Pathetic." Dracula shakes his head, "So, as I was saying before the orator began his speech, Anna started trying to pull Velkan out of his tanning bed…and we all know how much he _hates_ that. He's really very vain, for a man who rips his skin off every night, you'd think he'd be less interested in skincare and moisturizing but no…" Dracula sighs dramatically, "She started telling him that tanning causes skin cancer, but he wouldn't listen and pretty soon, she'd made him mad enough to turn into a werewolf. Such a pushy sheila. Won't take no for an answer. And she is vainer than Velkan too, always goes around in that leather strap thingey that looks terribly uncomfortable and tight. Practically spilling out over the top…" Dracula makes a vague hand gesture. "You know. And high heels. I have no idea how she can run in those things let alone fight off vampires and werewolves and giant squid." Dracula pauses and looks over at Van Helsing, "Did you have anything to add to that?"

Van Helsing smiles sloppily and shakes his head.

"Used up your left-hand-of-God word count for the day?" Dracula asks.

Van Helsing nods.

"Is that a promise?"

Van Helsing hiccups and nods again.

"Sure?"

Van Helsing glares at Dracula.

"Ok then." Dracula sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles, "Ay mates! Bring 'er down."

The yogurt covered Portuguese-speaking camera men lower a badly painted cardboard tree into the scene. Up in the rafters somewhere near the Author's computer lab there are several muffled banging noises.

Anna Valerius falls from the sky, hits her head on a tree limb, crashes back against the trunk, scrapes her knuckles against the cardboard tree bark, gets her ankle caught in a forked branch, smashes her face into a bunch of cardboard leaves, falls another five feet, kills a few cardboard squirrels, manages to catch hold of a branch with one finger, falls again, swings around upside down, cracks her nose against the tree trunk once more for good measure, and lands on her feet next to Dracula.

She pulls a knife out of her thigh high black buckle boot and stabs Dracula in the leg, "Who are you calling corset Barbie?"

Is Platonic friendship as Platonic as everyone thinks? Will the real reason behind Anna's corset ever be revealed?

Find out next time in: Of Rice and Men or Luck Be a Lady Tonight.


	4. The South Carpathian Mountains Diet

Well folks here we go again. I have something to tell y'all.

Guess what! I don't own Dracula. Or Van Helsing. Or Carl. Or Anna Valerious. Or the Corset. Or the Brothers Grimm. Or a Stutz Bearcat. Or the film rights to West Side Story. Or a jar of Raisins. Or any Military Top Secret Correspondence. Or a Koala named Clancy. I've never been to Australia. I've never met Richard Roxburgh. I have never ripped the skin off a small animal. I have never practiced ventriloquism in a mirror. I have never made bathtub gin…or absinthe. I haven't died more than once. I intend to live forever. And finally, I grovel for reviews.

I do, however know all twenty-seven verses of Tie Me Kangaroo Down Sport and can sing the Australian National Anthem in four-part harmony.

Once I owned a hamster.

Other than that I don't own anything, don't do anything, and lead practically the most boring life imaginable…except for being a pathological liar.

ON WITH THE SHOW

Dracula looks up at Anna with a pained expression. "Is thi—"

"Yes it is my silver knife."

"Hel—"

"Hello Dracula."

"I was going to sa—"

"No I don't want to rekindle your heartbeat."

"Would you stop interr—"

"Sure."

"Reall—"

"Not." Anna faces the camera and strikes a VanHelsing© patented heroic pose. "I am Anna Valerous and I would like to comment on some of the ridiculous if just plain improbable things that happen to me in this movie."

Dracula shakes his head, "Over my dead bo—"

"I find," Anna continues, while making the 'whatever W' with her fingers, "That people do not take me seriously in Van Helsing. They think that I'm some kind of movable prop to be rescued and protected."

"Well you're wearing a corset, what are we supposed to thi—"

Anna smacks Dracula in the head, "I am tired of being kidnapped and rescued and being forced to fight the secondary antagonist." She rubs her nose, "And I'm tired of falling out of trees." She looks at Dracula, "You can talk now."

Dracula looks up at the ceiling/author's computer lab, "I demand that you take her off this show immediately. She's nothing but fluff put in the movie to satisfy the sick little minds of fourteen year old males."

Anna takes one look at Dracula and starts to cry. She pulls out a pistol and shoots him in the foot.

Dracula dances around in pain for a while, for no other reason than the author is mad at him for killing h/s/I two chapters ago.

"Will you let me pull the knife out of my leg and heal now?" Dracula says grumpily.

There is a sound like the clicking of a thousand rusty computer keyboards.

Dracula pulls the knife out of his leg and heals.

"Don't forget about me." Anna smushes her nose against her sleeve, "I'm still crying. I need to be comforted by some big strong man who says that everything will be alright."

Dracula looks down at Van Helsing who is busy learning Sign Language…in Portuguese. "Don't expect me to do it. Not after what you said to me at Aleera's Prom."

"You're not paying enough attention to me." Anna bursts into sobs. Then she stops for a moment, "Just a sec, will you help me with this?" She unbuckles one of the six-hundred leather straps that keep her corset closed and tightens it a notch.

Dracula watches in horror.

"Ok. I'm good now." She resumes crying.

"You see!" Dracula waves a hand dramatically at the camera, "You see what she put me through? In the movie you only see when Aleera kidnaps her and then when she's at the prom. Do they show you the seventy five hours when she whined and complained and made me help her tighten her corset and curl her hair? Nooooo."

"I only made you curl my hair that one time."

"And do they show you when we went to the mall to pick out that ball gown?" Dracula shakes his head, "That _very expensive_ _designer limited edition _ball gown?"

"But it was my color."

Dracula does the 'I'm so angry that my face becomes silly putty' thing and frightens Anna into a corner. "Oh Dracula, do you think this one makes my cellulite too obvious? Oh Dracula, would this dress be a little drafty in a three hundred year old cathedral? I can't wear that dress Dracula, it doesn't go with my shoes."

"But I had already bought the shoes." Anna whimpers.

"And then we had to go to that professional hairdresser to get your hair styled." Dracula starts picking up handy objects of furniture, ie. Van Helsing, and throwing them around the room, "And I got a rash because of all the chemicals, and you had your nails done and then your toenails done and got high off the fumes and then we got home and you didn't like your hair and you made _me_ do it over again?" Dracula is shouting so loudly that a yogurt covered monk/friar/nun wanders onscreen to watch.

"And then!" Dracula says with a dramatic pause just long enough for lighting to crack in the background, "Aleera liked your outfit so much that she made me taker _her_ out to the mall to get a dress too!"

The yogurt covered member of a religious organization licks a popsicle and disappears back offscreen. Some cameramen start arguing whether enough balloons would lift a person into the air.

Dracula collapses into a chair and dramatically buries his head in his hands.

"Well you had to kidnap me in the first place." Anna frowns and comes out of her corner now that Dracula is non-scary, "If you hadn't kidnapped me I would have made Van Helsing take me to the mall."

Dracula begins mumbling in…Yiddish.

"No I don't." Dracula hefts one of the few remaining chairs at the author.

"And you _kissed _me." Anna says accusingly.

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did." Anna grabs Van Helsing and throws him back across the room at Dracula. "I wake up all of the sudden and there you are sucking on my face."

"You were like, stoned on nail polish," Dracula dodges the impromptu missile, "I was worried. First I gave you the Heimlich and then I started CPR. That's when you woke up."

Van Helsing makes a kind of gurgling noise, but he can't say anything because he's used up his word-count. He does make a rude gesture in Portuguese though.

"Oh yeah, well how do you explain all that 'not all I can do with your skin' stuff?" Anna runs across the room and grabs Van Helsing and throws him at Dracula again.

"Did I ever tell you I was a Mary-Kay beauty consultant for several years."

"Oh, so _that's_ how he got his hair." The cameramen say in Portuguese around sticky mouthfuls of yogurt.

Anna smiles warmly, "You were?"

"Oh yeah, I even had the pink car." Dracula says, preening, "Still do, as a matter of fact. People always assume that vampires just fly around to where they want to go. Trust me, it's not very practical in the winter."

"I thought you _liked_ the cold." Anna stares at him blankly, "In all those vampire books, like, Lestat is all 'I can't feel cold' and 'I don't care if I'm trapped in an iceberg'." Anna pantomimes being stuck in an iceberg because hey, she's that kind of girl

Dracula shakes his head, "I'm a southern-hemisphere-have-a-picnic-Christmas-Dinner-on-the-beach type of guy." He pulls out his cell phone again, "Igor, make a note. Oi'm gunta pop off an' see That Rice Sheila some blue an' figure out where she why she came in dirty on vampires. Nah. She's jake. Orright, see ya mate."

Anna blinks several times.

"Destroyed by fire indeed." Dracula says in a miffed voice. "You saw that time that Frankenstein's son Monster tossed me in the fireplace."

Anna shakes her head.

"You just regenerate, it's the easiest thing this side of the black stump. Like this." Dracula faces the camera and takes a deep breath and concentrates. His cheeks puff out. He turns funny colors. His pores shrink or something.

Anna is still looking shell-shocked.

"What? You don't think it makes me look better?"

Anna's voice is all squeaky. "I didn't know you were Australian."

"Dude, in this movie everyone's Australian."

"But I'm allergic to Australians. I break out in unnecessary drama when they kiss me." Anna looks from side to side, "Do you know that when I was born someone made a prophecy that I would be killed in this movie by an Australian."

"Well there's Carl, and Gabriel and me, and there's pretty good chance that one of us will get annoyed with you by the end." Dracula kicks Van Helsing in the head, "Right Gabe-ey boy?"

Van Helsing looks hurt, but he can't speak…..that is, until he looks out the Magically Heretofore Unnoticed Window with the Panoramic View of a Giant Clock. The clock…..strikes twelve. You couldn't guess that, could you?

"FREE AT LAST!" Van Helsing yells while ripping his shirt off.

"Whoa man, I like you and all but that's a little um…" Anna runs and hides behind Dracula.

"I LIVE ANOTHER DAY!"

"Gabriel was always one for the dramatic stripper act." Comments Dracula.

"He frightens me make him go away."

"He killed you in the movie. You must have done something to him in a past life."

"LOOK OUT WORLD HERE I COME!"

"He _what?_ He couldn't have. How come I'm here on this TV show. We made the movie six months ago."

"Anna darling, we didn't spend _all_ of those seventy-five hours shopping."

"HAH!" Van Helsing does an acrobatic-ly-ness-looking thing and stands up. "Anna he has you under his hypnotic spell don't move and I will rescue you!"

"Put your shirt back on first." Anna says, just to prove that she is a worthy complement to a hero and not just interested in his highly worked out physique.

Van Helsing looks at the shredded remains of his shirt, "You want me to turn into a werewolf? My pants fall off then."

Dracula uses one of his 'one size fits all, one use only, no refunds' superpowers and Van Helsing is magically sewed into his costume. Sorta like Spiderman. Several cameramen stop watching the broadcast and go back to inhaling helium and discussing morality.

"Hey, I was having fun, bub." Van Helsing tries unsuccessfully to shed his clothing.

Dracula proceeds to ignore him, "Anna dear, he was practically unmanageable during filming. Every time Mr. Sommers was looking the other way he'd want to change into a werewolf." Dracula smiles his smile-of-doom, "Me I'm more of a cat person."

"That's funny because the only thing that can kill me is an Australian werewolf." Anna says over Dracula's shoulder.

"_No_ … you too? Bizarre, isn't it?"

"Velkan couldn't kill you," Anna says proudly, "Because he wasn't Australian."

Dracula looks into the camera completely deadpan, "Now all of my questions are answered."

"Except the stuff with the Jell-O mirror and all," Anna says. "Was the movie intentionally ripping off Through the Looking Glass? I mean, ripping off like, Frankenstein was ok, but a children's book?"

Dracula hears the word 'children' and bursts into tears. "I used to read them the story of Peter Cottontail every night. And I sang them lullabies like 'Waltzing Matilda' and 'Botany Bay' and 'It's All For Me Grog.'" He sniffles a little and Anna gives him a hug.

"That one's my favorite." Van Helsing says, joining in the tearful sniffling. "Me mum used to sing it every night."

"Yours too?"

Dracula and Van Helsing sorta lean on each other and sob carefully manly tears in reminiscence of their mothers. Van Helsing blows his nose on Dracula's cape.

"I hate to interrupt you guys," Anna pulls another knife randomly out of her corset and sticks it back in another place. "But Dracula, why is it again that you don't reflect in a mirror?"

"The Computer Graphics Department got paid that week."

"Oh." Anna looks disappointed, "I was hoping you could answer that or something. Mr. Sommers said that you knew the answer."

Dracula looks up, realizes that he is leaning on Van Helsing, screeches and backs away. Then he realizes that there is booger all over his cloak so he dramatically does the collar-pulling thing and takes it off.

Anna, being female, swoons.

But luckily, a yogurt covered blob reaches in from offscreen and catches her before she hits the ground.

"You are so lucky." Van Helsing observes.

The yogurt blob disappears. For all anyone knows, it was actually the world-famous Surviving Cow of Van Helsing.

"I can't help it, I'm a Modern Heroine."

Dracula assumes his rant pose, "See, she wears insanely decorative clothes designed to constrict movement and enhance certain anatomical properties…all of which is unhelpful to say the least in a fight, and she is put in the most dangerous situation possible…. But does she die of apoplexy because she can't breathe? Does she stab her lycra covered butt with the sword that she is wearing without a sheath? Does she lose her balance on those high heels and tumble off the side of the castle to her death? Noooo. Random things save her."

"You are so lucky." Van Helsing says again.

Anna shrugs. "What can I say? The camera loves me."

"And _why_ do you ask?" Dracula makes an unobtrusive hand motion and the camera zooms in for a closeup. "Because screenwriters are hopeless losers who haven't had a date in thirty years! The only horror movies they watch are from the fifty's!" Dracula sneers attractively, "Real people don't act like that."

"Hey, I'm real." Anna looks up from tightening one of her thigh-straps.

"Why do you keep doing that."

"It's my new weight loss program."

Dracula rolls his eyes, "I think I'm about ready to wrap this up, ladies and gentlemen. I think I have proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that the entire cast of Van Helsing, saving myself, should be shot, staked, or disposed of in their own special way. I think it is about time for me to call in our executioner…"

"HEY."

Dracula looks offscreen briefly, "You're messing me up."

"But the _author_ wants this rant to keep going."

Dracula looks like he's thinking of a really nasty thing to call the author and he steps offscreen for a moment. "Who said that?"

Van Helsing looks at Anna. "Guess it's just you and me."

Anna nods. "You thinking what I'm thinking?"

They move closer together and lean in… and set up a chess board.

"But _I _wanted to be white." Van Helsing whines. "And you promised me that I could drink absinthe."

Dracula reappears holding a soggy white blob by the ear. "And I think we should execute the author too."

"Myyyyyyyy precciousssssssss." The author hisses, "It buuuuuuuurnssss ussss it doesssssss."

Holding onto the author's ankle is another large white blob. "No come back. Tell me more about the herbal colloidals in vitamin K!"

"What are you?" Dracula asks.

The yogurty thing stands up. It's ten feet tall and has rather long fingernails. "Ummm." It says.

Dracula does the angry face thing, "Answer me or I'll kill you!"

The yogurty thing jumps out of its skin. Literally.

"Geez you always do that!" Velkan howls, jumping around and wringing his hands, "And I think you made me break a nail!" He stands up and looks sleek, "Hey Anna you should hear what I sound like when I breathe helium."

Meanwhile the author is dragged offscreen by a mysterious yougurty blob in a frock. Several other figures tie a mass of balloons to h/s/I's back and begin chanting. The author wafts back up to the ceiling. There are wild cheers of 'Success!' and 'It's alive!'

The author wafts higher, and higher, and then h/s/I leans over to h/s/I's computer and ….ends the chapter.

Who will win the chess game? Why is Dracula so mysteriously uninterested in Anna? Why is Van Helsing so mysteriously uninterested in Anna?

Find out next time in…. The Romanian Family Valerious or

Oh Oh The Wells Fargo Wagon Is A' Comin' Down The Street!


	5. Swan Lake

G'day we're back! Thank you thank you thank you to all the reviews! It's so nice to know someone's actually reading this crappy story. Sorry about the incredibly long time between updates. Dracula's Rant has been suffering at the hands of author holds up brightly colored advertisement The Phantom of the Light Opera Company Production of Guys and Dolls! C'mon everybody! Be excited with me! It's an insanely long fic and posted complete because I hate doing the chapter deal thingey. Entire cast of POTLOCPGAD walk onscreen and take a bow. They look very annoyed.

Disclaimer: I own practically nothing. Not even a house. I live in a cardboard box writing these fanfics on old t-shirts using the remains of McDonald's happy meals. Also I have a cold and am very sniffly today. _If_ I owned Dracula, he would be very nice to me and bring me a hot cup of tea.

The Cupboard and the Phantom: sorry about the slang, could not help that Rox and Jackman and Dwenham are from the land of my ancestral ancestraliness (waves Australian flag) I put some more-standard slang in just for you. It was the least I could do…you like reviewed ever single one of my fics in a day. For that you get cyberhugs and points! 

Camera blinks on.

"Hello and welcome to Velkan's Rant about all the things wrong with the movie Van Helsing." Velkan rubs some more kitchen grease into his muscles. "For one thing there isn't enough ballet. I mean sure there's ball room dancing and all, but nothing can express the soul quite like ballet." Velkan looks over at Dracula, "Aren't you going to get mad and stop me?"

Dracula shakes his head, "Don't be boring. Besides, I want to see where you're going with this ballet thing."

"You sure you don't want to stop me?"

"Pretty sure."

Velkan finishes preening and stands up straight. "Ok then I'd like to do some great ballet moves to show off my finely toned physique." He tour jetes, arabesques, releve en pointes, fouettes, and then finishes off with a bourree and frappements.

Dracula just watches sadly.

"I can't take it anymore!" Anna shrieks, and begins stabbing Velkan in the stomach repeatedly with a foot-long hypodermic syringe. "Dear brother I will rescue you from the evil that holds you in thrall!"

"Gee, I actually feel better." Velkan looks down at the needle sticking out of his guts. He looks up at Dracula. "_You _had me under your evil mind control! _You_ wanted to take all the happiness out of my life! _You_ didn't want to let me frolic among the daffodils! I remember now!"

Dracula sighs, "My adoring public, I think I have been exonerated from any accusations connected with Velkan. I think you will agree that this young man needs help. And shock therapy."

Van Helsing nods his head with a look of horrified disgust plastered on his face. He pulls a pistol out of his belt and tries to shoot Velkan. Anna whacks him on the head and he misses.

"That's my brother you idiot!" Anna says.

"I certainly hope there's nothing in heredity."

Dracula crosses his arms across his chest, raises one hand and leans his forehead against it.

"Well you can't just shoot my brother! I wouldn't like that!"

"Why not? He's a werewolf. Everyone knows you have to kill werewolves."

"So? You're a werewolf too!"

"Yeah, and I didn't even have silver bullets in my gun! Sheesh."

"Stupid vampire hunter."

"Moronic gypsy princess."

"Humph."

"So there."

"Fine."

"Fine."

Dracula gives Velkan a benevolent smile, "Come here, my lad. I understand you had a difficult childhood. Why don't you tell Dracula all about it, hmm?"

Velkan edges nervously around Anna and Van Helsing, "Well it all started when you killed my father and grandfather and great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather and all of my relatives."

Dracula picks up an overturned chair and offers it to Velkan, "And then what?"

Velkan gracefully collapses into the chair. He sits with his knees primly together. "What do you mean _and then what_? Isn't that enough?"

"Well your relatives were all in a sort of contract with me."

Velkan nods. "That's what comes of making pacts."

"You see back when your great-great-grandfather was very young, he invented a special electric machine but he couldn't get a patent on it, so he asked me to get the patent and fund his research." Dracula pats Velkan on the shoulder. "It was kind of like a family business."

"But they all ended up as unrecognizably charred corpses!"

"That's what happens when you try and invent bug zappers that work on dragons." Dracula shrugs, "Fact of life, mate. I tried to talk them out of it, but it was some kind of fatal obsessive compulsion to work on the invention."

Velkan sits bolt upright, "Wait….an _electric_ bug zapper for dragons? WHOA so totally AWESOME DUDE!"

Anna stops ignoring Van Helsing for a moment and runs over to Velkan, "Vhich is it?"

"Bug zappers for dragons! We could call it like, The Drago-Zap-O-Tron."

"That ROCKS."

Velkan jumps up and starts pulling wires up from where they are taped to the studio floor, "Come on help me this is so totally cool."

"RIGHTEOUS MAN."

"Oh _snap_," Velkan says and some lights go out. The lights flicker back on and Velkan's hair is trailing smoke. He's sucking on his fingers, "I didn't think my fingernails were that sharp."

Anna leans over and looks at the burn mark on his hand, "Dude."

Velkan nods in agreement. "Dude."

"Duuuuuude."

"DuDE!"

"Dude?"

Velkan rolls his eyes, "Dude."

Van Helsing looks at Dracula. Dracula looks at Van Helsing. They shrug.

"Did you get a word of that mate?"

"Nope."

Somewhere in the world, TheCupboardandthePhantom reads Anna and Velkan's conversation and understands every single word of it.

"Have you ever wondered," Dracula says pensively, "Just how amazing it is that in movies the laws of physics, mathematics, and geometry don't apply?"

"Not really." Van Helsing stands up and straightens the brim of his hat dramatically. "I like to think that I can warp the fabric of space-time to meet my needs."

"Does it ever bother you when you watch a movie and see the hero shoot a spiraly grappling gun thingey into a tree, swing halfway across an endless chasm, and then the cord breaks and he just swings to the other side and lands on the grass?" Dracula walks toward the camera making expansive hand gestures.

"I had Anna with me. We were just lucky."

"It was blatant disregard of Euclidean Geometry!"

"No really, it was just a really really tall tree."

Dracula starts turning red. He sputters. He makes nasty sounding vampire noises.

"You look like you're running out of props." The author says from the sky.

Three blobs ooze onto the stage and place a set of magnetic poetry, a bottle of perfume, and a stuffed kangaroo in front of Dracula. Then they bow and reverently back away.

"Ooh poetry." Says Velkan.

Dracula clenches his fists and refuses to do anything with the props, "and you, Velkan. How come you appear out of nowhere and magically set fire to Van Helsing's car and then just as magically disappear for half an hour and then magically reappear out of the flames? Do you realize that you would have to distort the space-time continuum to do that?"

"It wasn't a car." Velkan protests, "It was a horse drawn carriage. I know because when that other carriage fell off the cliff it hit the ground and exploded. All carriages explode when they hit the ground. It has something to do with the gas tank."

"Got rid of that weird flying chick though." Van Helsing says while arranging the magnetic poetry to look like a picture of Anna.

"Hey…" Dracula starts twitching, "that's my _wife_ you're talking about."

"I thought you said they were your fifteen year old mental patients." Van Helsing doesn't even look up from his magnetic poetry.

"Well she was…that is..until….well er... You're messing me up! Now where was I?"

"Creepy sheila. Doesn't even have eyebrows."

"I'll have you know that Verona is the most beautiful woman in the world!" Velkan stands up and shouts patriotically.

Dracula and Van Helsing freeze.

"Yeah!" Anna pulls a knife out of some kind of buckley leather secret pocket, "And I'll tell my villagers to kill you if you insult her again!"

"Vlad, I think this might be a good time to change the subject." Van Helsing smiles in a small and scared sort of way.

"And you!" Velkan points a french-manicured finger at Van Helsing, "It is because of _you_ that I don't believe in Santa Claus any more!" He gets a mean nasty-velkan look on his face, "Yeah! You don't remember, do you? I was minding my own business one day when I look up and there you are with six reindeer flying over another one of those endless chasms." Velkan spits on the floor, "Well I believed it. Every word! But _I _didn't get any presents. And Anna didn't either."

"Yeah."

"And now I hate Santa Claus." Velkan snarls, "And I hate you too. In fact I hate Igor and Prince Dracula and _everyone._"

Van Helsing looks over at Dracula, "I thought you were a Count."

"Common misconception."

"The reindeer on the front even had a glowing nose!" Velkan is starting to sprout hair and shed skin, (yes it is kinda disgusting), "I was so happy and then you had to go and ruin it! And then you _shot_ me! Twice!"

Van Helsing leans closer to Dracula, "What is wrong with them?" he whispers.

"Severe Shakespearean Monologue. I told you that drastic measures needed to be taken." Dracula pauses for a moment, "Besides he's right. I saw you with those reindeer the day you were filming that shot."

"Well what was I supposed to do? Get flying _horses_? Pah-lease."

Dracula looks regally at the camera, "Another example in the never ending string of crimes against the laws of physics perpetrated by Van Helsing."

"Well you got to do that instant replay thing." Van Helsing points out.

Anna and Velkan retract their fangs, "Instant replay?"

"It's at the ball…"

"Aleera's prom."

"….Aleera's prom. And I got Carl to push that flamethrower at Dracula and…"Van Helsing pauses to do the arm motion throwing thing, "He tosses the guy off in the corner, and then I swing down to grab Anna and his shadow does the throwing thing again, and then I get Anna and swing up and Dracula does the throwing thing _again_." Van Helsing pants for breath.

Velkan blinks a couple of times.

Van Helsing makes a desperate grab for the perfume bottle because his hands have nothing else to do, "Ok, it sounds better if you actually _see_ it. You had to have been there."

Velkan blinks some more.

"It was instant replay." Van Helsing unscrews the top of the perfume bottle and drinks it, "Go ahead, get the Portuguese speaking expatriate yogurt covered Jacuzzi party Flamenco dancing cameramen to show you the clip. I'll wait."

Velkan takes Anna's arm and pats her hand, "I think it's about time we got going dear."

"Yes love." Anna says and they wander solemnly off screen.

"But it was instant replay, I swear!" Van Helsing wipes his mouth on his sleeve, "By the way that was some of the best tasting absinthe I've ever had."

Dracula is squinting at something off screen. "Did you say that they're doing flamenco now?"

"Last time I looked."

"Then who is that in the Carmen Miranda costume with bananas on his head?"

Van Helsing squints. He shakes his head, reaches into his pocket and pulls out a very think pair of glasses, "Oh are those bananas? I thought they were chickens." He observes the figure silently for a while, "It can't be Carl, it's too tall."

"How can you mistake bananas for chickens?" Dracula points, "Ooh look, he's started a conga line."

"Well they're yellow. And squishy. And they taste good. And the first thing they see after they come out of the egg they think is their parent."

Dracula goes green, "Er, don't mention that. I don't want to talk about that right now. Besides bananas don't come from eggs! Everyone knows that their giant south American spiders that die hanging in trees and get mold all over their legs."

Van Helsing is waving at the Carmen Miranda impersonator, "He looks like he's oozing something sticky and gross. I wonder who it could be?"

Dracula spins around smartly on his heel and starts walking in the other direction.

BUT HE IS TOO LATE MWAHAHAHAHA!

Frankenstein's Monster leans forward and squints a little, "Is that Van Helsing….and _Mother!_" He starts running/hobbling/loping on his leopard print platform shoes, "Why? Why? Why did you do it Mumsy? You sucked all the blood out of Father! Hwwwwwhhhyyyyy?"

"Goodbye now, thank you for listening to Dracula's Rant," Dracula says stiffly, "We will probably not be back next week. We will probably never ever see you again."

"No Mumsy come back!" Monster wails desperately, "I _love_ you! You're all the family I have left in the world! Don't leave me aloooonnnneeeee!" He lunges forward and tries to give Dracula a hug,

Dracula teleports onto the nearest conveniently placed fireplace mantle. "Eek Gabriel! Do something!"

"G'day mate, my name's Van Helsing." Van Helsing shakes Monster's hand.

"My name is Monster." Monster says, "But I always wanted to be called Hamlet. It has such a nice ring to it… _Ham_-let…Ham_-let_ Hamlet."

"G'day Monster." Van Helsing says.

"Have _you_ seen my Mother?"

"What did he—she look like?"

Monster leans back to think about this, "well she had long black hair, and shiny gold earrings, and she wore a big swirly velvet cape, and a really big nose… I mean _really_ big. The type of nose that you inherit from your dad and it just won't stop growing." Monster looks down at Van Helsing. "Have you seen her?"

Van Helsing glances nervously up at the fireplace. "Noo." He follows Dracula's prompting, "She went to a…wait Vlad could you do that last hand motion again? Oh right she went to a …carnival? And got a pony? Yeah, because you were good. No because you were bad. No? Orright, keep ya' shirt on! Oi'm doin me best an he's right you do have a dirty big conk an if you wouldn't stick it in the sky hoity toity like it wouldn't seem 'arf as big."

Monster wobbles around and stares at Dracula with large Bambi-esque eyes, "Mumsy?"

Dracula waves sheepishly.

Monster picks up the heaviest, largest object in the vicinity and chucks it at Dracula. It happens to be the stuffed kangaroo. "You have killed my Father! Prepare to die!"

Van Helsing looks shocked, "Wait that's matricide!"

Carl in a green cloak and some nasty looking daggers and bow and arrow sets jumps on to the screen. "May death find all of you very quickly if you bring that poor mother to harm!"

"Um Carl?"

Carl in the green cloak doesn't even look at Van Helsing.

"Um Carl?" Van Helsing asks again , "Actually that's _my_ hairstyle that you're wearing there. Yup. Says so in my contract. I get the wavy long hair and you get the monk cut.

Carl in the green cloak and long wavy hair is still ignoring Van Helsing. "Dear Madam," he says to Dracula, "Are you hurt?"

Dracula watches solemnly for a moment, observing the new situation and coming to the obvious conclusion, "the Author took too many antihistamines again didn't she."

Carl in the green cloak is oblivious, "I am Captain Faramir, Prince of Gondor! I shall keep you safe from this Monster who seeks your life."

Van Helsing does a double take.

Carl in a yogurt stained brown dress wanders on to the screen with a bowl stuck on his head. He stumbles about and gurgles contentedly. "Van Helsing? Van Helsing? Where are you?"

Dracula looks up at the author miserably. Then he shoots a look offscreen, "IIIIIGGGGOOOOOORRRRR! Get me out of this!"

The Author's pale little trembling fingers reach out across the metal I-beams in the ceiling and gingerly stroke some of the fluffy fuzz on the kangaroo's head. H/s/I cackles like a maniac and hugs the stuffed kangaroo dramatically. "You shall never escape from meeeeeeeee!"

And so the Rant continues……

Is the fic now a crossover? Or is the author stupidly inserting random characters that our hero and all those other lousy villains have played? And most importantly, will the next chapter contain a musical number?

Find out next time in, The Return of the Fellowship of the Two Daisies, or My Heart Belongs to Daddy.


	6. Sound and Fury, Signifying Nothing

Author's Note: Note: in this chapter there will be several references to movies and broadway shows that you may or may not have seen. I will mention them and highly recommend them right now. The Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers movie. The One and Only Original Star Trek starring Captain James T. Paunch and Mr. Spocky. Zorro, the Gay Blade movie. Anything starring James Bond. Some random Placido Domingo music video featuring 'Lagrimas'. The original Broadway production of Jekyll and Hyde. Also the movie with David Hasselhoff is good. Also thanks to the director of X-Men for directing X-Men. Also thanks to Jim Henson for making my sad little life more fun.

Disclaimer: uy vleep nbarook skeeevers. Isht pahl nbarook ey. Kee wharga?

Camera blinks rapidly several times and goes into slowmo for a few seconds. The scene is very blurry and sparks are shooting everywhere. Then the camera blinks again.

Dracula is sitting very comfortably in a green plush armchair by a cozy looking fireplace. His feet are propped up on a footstool. There is a large bookcase behind him and a golden glowing candle flickering on an end table. There are several pictures on the table of Dracula and his friends. Also a couple of sock puppets. The scene is perfect except for the fact that Dracula's hair is on fire.

Dracula smiles warmly into the camera. He does not look frazzled at all. "Good evening—"

There are suspicious thumping noises.

"—friends. Ve velcome you back to Draculea's Rant." He continues smiling just as if the footstool wasn't breathing and making grunting noises.

Dracula kicks the footstool in the face, "This direct from Hollywood special program is about the whimsical, wonderful and just plain crappy things that happened in that silver screen favorite of ours, the mis-titled Van Helsing." Dracula places his palms together and leans back.

The chair sqeaks indignantly and the fabric starts poking out at odd places. It sounds like it's sobbing.

"I always thought," Dracula continues, "That the movie should be named after the most valuable character. The one character that the movie and everyone in it just couldn't do without….And of course we all know that is Igor." Dracula waves magnanimously offscreen. "Come on out old buddy old pal."

Igor shuffles onto the screen. He wipes his nose on his sleeve and grins sheepishly at the camera. He's holding a six-foot cattle prod. "Hi mom." He says.

"Now Igor what would I do without you?" Dracula says genially, "You always know how to keep unruly creatures under control, and you can foil any attempts on my life, you even know how to quote the Bible…and you know how I find that very comforting on those nights that I can't sleep. _I_ appreciate the effort that you put into making every day a day of excellence and service. How on earth do you do it?"

"I used to work for Quantas."

Dracula looks patriotic for a second. "Oh Igor. You are without a doubt the best most useful character in the entire movie and I motion that we rename the film 'Igor the Minion' in your honor."

Dracula's chair is sort of drowning in it's own tears. It's kinda dripping on the floor.

Igor takes note of the situation, swings his cattle prod to bear and gives the chair a healthy bolt of lighting. "Quit whining and I won't torture you during lunch break."

Faramir's head pops out of his green plush cape, which, incidentally, comprises the chair, "But this isn't even my franchise!"

Carl continues to sob.

"And the monk who looks like Boromir is creeping me out!"

"I'm not a mooooooonkkkk!" Carl wails, "Iiiiiiii'm just a friiiiiiiaaaaaarrrrrrr!" He sniffs up a huge nose-full of snot and blows his nose on Anna's leather corset-ey thing. In case you were wondering, friars are allowed to do that kind of thing. Also Carl has steel nostrils. Just in case you were wondering.

"Eew!" Anna shrieks and jumps to her feet, knocking Dracula out of the makeshift armchair, smacking Van Helsing in the face randomly, and dislodging Frankenstein's Monster from where he had been trying to blend in like a chameleon with a particularly large tome marked 'Macbeth'.

Igor shifts his cattle prod testily, "Should I fry 'em boss?"

"I think you enjoy your work too much."

Igor smiles with pasty rotting skin. "I sure didn't sign up just because I like pasty rotting skin."

"You know…You could _not_ go to makeup in the morning. I guarantee you'd look better."

"No," Igor shakes his head sadly, "Actually without makeup I look worse. My mother was Hillary Rodham Clinton."

The author takes this moment to randomly swing h/s/I's head down from the ceiling. "Um guys. This is supposed to be Frankenstein's Monster's Week. Igor, you have to wait your turn."

Igor points a pasty rotting finger at Dracula.

Dracula grunts and tries to look scruffy.

The author appraises the situation, reaches up onto h/s/I's computer and taps a few keys. Igor, Anna, Van Helsing, Carl, and Faramir all disappear in a sparkling swirl of special effects from Star Trek. Velkan doesn't need to be vanished because he's out partying with the yougurt-men. One of the yogurt men looks suspiciously like Spock. Dr. Spock.

"That was bizarre." Dracula says to a random man standing next to him.

The random man flicks his black cape over his shoulder, straightens his sombrero, and nods. In that order.

"Who are you?" Dracula demands.

"George Hamilton." The man grins like a very happy person who is happier than any person has a legal right to be, "But ju can call me EL ZORRO!" Zorro takes out his sword, stabs Dracula through whatever non-vital organs the network censors would allow and disappears in a puff of glitter.

"Now." the author says blinking stupidly, "_That_ was bizarre."

Dracula frowns down at his chest, "Ouch."

Throughout this inane little escapade, Frankenstein's Monster has been staggering around with a heartstricken look on his face and a wilting boquet of daffodils in one gray fugly looking hand/mass of flesh.

"What are you doing?" Dracula asks and instantly regrets it when Monster begins reciting Wordsworth's 'I wandered lonely as a cloud.' Dracula lunges at him, and clamps a hand over his mouth to silence him, "Shhhh someone will hear."

"Mmmfff grymmmy frrrrrmmm?" Monster asks as eloquently as he can, under the circumstances.

Dracula shushes him one more time and takes his hand off of his mouth, "Monster, how 'bout you tell our nice audience why you're such a Shakespearean crackpot and I was perfectly humane to strap you to a table and make you get hit repeatedly by lightning."

Monster draws himself up to his full ten-foot-and-it-just-keeps-getting-taller height. "Mummy, I was wanting to talk to you about that."

"SSSSSSHHHHHHHH!" Dracula hisses desperately.

Monster shakes his head and sticks his lip out stubbornly, "Now you're not going to change the subject Mummy, I think it's very degrading to have you call me 'Monster' all the time. It just might give people the wrong idea."

"Also the fact that you are dripping green blood from the metal bolts in your chest might give people the wrong idea."

Monster looks heroic, forlorn, and stubborn as only a gothic antagonist can. "No Mummy, it's no use. So I went down to the courthouse and changed my name." He pulls a document out of his slick leather pants. It is coated with a sticky green sheen. "Here, it's legal and everything, so I'd like you to call me by my new name."

Dracula unfolds the paper. "….James…Bond?"

Monster smiles and exposes several copper teeth, "Shaken not stirred."

Dracula squints down at the paper with those gorgeous blue eyes of his, "James…007…Bond?"

Monster pulls a real (not-clip on) bowtie out of his pocket and ties it around his neck expertly. He straightens the bow in a highly seductive fashion. "MI7 agent licensed to kill."

Dracula looks up at him from under one eyebrow, "And so you legally changed your name to James…Bond?"

Monster nods heroically, forlornly, and above all stubbornly. "You're not changing my mind Mummy, I've decided to show the world who I _really_ am! I'm coming out of the closet!"

Dracula swallows a few times, "James…Bond?"

"Yes Mummy? Did you want to say something?"

Dracula's breathing gets rapid and his eyes stare off into the distance, "If you'll excuse me for a second, Monster." He turns and walks offscreen.

Monster looks bewildered and there is a sudden and terrific lighting storm accompanied by what can only be described as 'insane villain laughter.'

Dracula walks back on camera and wipes his mouth. "Well dear audience, cheer up, Monster could still be in his Richard the Third phase, now that was frightening, so we should be happy for what we can get, eh Monster?"

"Bond." Monster says huskily, "James Bond."

Dracula laughs again and a lighting bolt strikes him in the head and makes his hair go all frizzy.

"Wow that's cool Mom," Monster lurches in Dracula's direction, "How do you do that?"

"Bloody annoying!" Dracula smoothes his hair (cue audience swoon), "…wait, didn't those special effects guys do that?"

"No, it looked like you laughed and sparked off a thunderstorm." Monster sticks his hands in his pockets. "By the way Mummy, I used your credit card to buy some new platform shoes. There was this great sale at Payless."

"I can't laugh and spark off a thunderstorm. It's all for dramatic effect." Dracula looks around nervously. "Isn't it?"

"Nah. Try it again, see if it works." Monster looks down at his shoes, "Do you think the leopard print is really me?"

"Oh definitely." Dracula says absently. Then he clears his throat, "Ok, here I go…hehehe ha…oh cough "

It begins to rain.

"Yo siento hundirme y me estremezco" Monster sings in his best 'Placido Domingo' voice.

"Monster?" Dracula shouts over the thunderstorm. "That is…James?"

Monster ignores him.

Dracula does the 'angry face thing' at the sky and it immediately stops raining.

"…si veo caer tus lagrimas….oh uh heh heh. " Monster looks sheepish.

Dracula looks at the camera. He is not wet in the slightest. He points sympathetically at Monster, "Don't you see that he needs the best psychiatric treatment available? Insulin shock therapy, the works?" Dracula looks very cute for being a nasty creepy monster that can frighten an indoor thunderstorm away. He smiles in his best 'cuteness' attitude. "I would like to take this point in time to ask you to donate a dime to help fight Severe Shakespearean Monologue. Many many people suffer from this terrible disease. So give a dime to Vlad's Children and save a life!"

Monster starts digging in his wallet. "That's very touching. How will this money be used?"

"To fund the firewood so that I can burn Van Helsing at the stake."

Monster pulls out a dime, thinks for a moment and then pulls out a twenty dollar bill. "That's so noble of you Mummy."

Dracula growls at him, "Can't you stop calling me Mummy?"

Monster looks bewildered. His lower lip starts to tremble.

"No it's ok. Forget I mentioned it." Dracula snatches the twenty bucks. Or leus, or whatever the national currency of Romania is. "Monster—"

"James Bond."

"James Bond then, you've been rather good tonight, would you like to say something to our nice audience?"

"Two truths are told as happy prologues to the swelling act of imperial theme." Monster turns to Dracula and bows, "I thank you gentlemen…ladies. This supernatural soliciting cannot be ill, cannot be good: if ill, why hath it given me earnest of success, commencing in truth?"

"Forget it Monster."

"But Mummy you said…"

"Forget it."

…

"Ok so now what should we do?" Dracula yells accusingly up at the author.

"So how should I know mate? Take a lunch break."

Dracula bares his fangs and lunges at Monster.

"Aaaaakkk!" Monster says "Out, out, brief candle! Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player that struts and frets his hour upon the stage and then it is heard no more: it is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing!"

Dracula stops attacking Monster and looks something akin to awed. "Why do you randomly quote Shakespeare all the time? It's so stupid. You've never even read Shakespeare! You were raised in an absinthe brewery!"

Monster looks smug. "It's useful. It stopped you from attacking me."

"That's not the point? How come you can quote Shakespeare? It just doesn't make sense."

Monster looks smug-er. "I speak English, German, French, and Arabic. The first book I read was Plato's Republic. I am well versed in all of the classical literature and I also know some significant sum of musical theory."

Dracula raises an eyebrow.

"Just ask Mary Shelley."

"Hey look, if we go by the book, I'm eighty-five with a unibrow and hairy palms."

"I thought you were supposed to look like George Gordon, Lord Byron."

Dracula and Monster turn in unison and hold a moment of patriotic silence for the Gey Gordons…which happen to be the author's clan.

"We're going strictly by the recent movie Van Helsing." Dracula says like nothing happened. "You have to base your character solely off of that and the personality of the actor playing you."

Monster looks disappointed, "You mean I can't base myself off of Boris Karloff? Because he is like so HAWT!"

"Monster, you're frightening young children again." Dracula elbows Monster in the ribs.

Monster pouts. "Someday I'm going to run away to South America and marry an Amazon Chick and have lots of kids. Then you'll be sorry that you didn't create a Bride for me out of dead bodies."

Dracula zaps Monster with a couple of bolts of lighting.

"Well If I can't be Boris Karloff, can I show you my twin brother, Edward Hyde?"

Dracula nods hesitantly, "But only if you don't let Hyde be too gross. No butt-picking on camera. And he can't eat his cigars either."

Monster motions that Edward Hyde walk onstage.

Robert Cuccioli walks on stage. His hair is curly and straggley. He waves his cane. Several fangirls plead for only one little phial of HJ7.

"You're not playing by the rules!" Dracula raises his hands in the scary traditional-Dracula way that he does. "Suffer the consequences!"

"Bad news from God, Teddy!" Hyde shrieks in his oh-so-silky-smooth voice as Dracula transforms him into the Van Helsing Edward Hyde.

Monster looks heartbroken. "What have you done to him!"

Hyde burps contentedly.

Dracula looks at them both appraisingly. "You know. I don't think you're twins at all. You look nothing like him."

"Oh we have the same body. Matter of fact, you know that bat creature that you turn into?" Monster swaggers a bit, "That's my body too."

Dracula lets out a yell that makes everyone who was previously vanished un-vanish.

"Aaaaaaahhhh" screams Anna, still wiping snot off of her corset.

"Aaaaaaahhhh" screams Faramir, trying to get his cape un-stuck from Carl's head.

"Van Helsing? Van Helsing?" Carl says numbly.

Van Helsing does not scream. In fact, he springs to life and uses his can-openers-of-death to hack large chunks of flesh off of Edward Hyde's body.

Hyde watches him placidly.

"Where'd you get those, by the way?" Dracula asks.

"Tupperware. They were on sale." Van Helsing answers and plunges his arms up to their elbows in Hyde-blubber. When Hyde is significantly thinner, Van Helsing looks satisfied and tosses Hyde off of a handy nearby cliff.

Hyde changes back into Robert Cuccioli, "Father!" he gasps and dies.

Anna looks shocked, "But his hair was almost as good as Dracula's why did you kill him!" In revenge she goes over to Faramir, hacks a few limbs off of him and tosses him off of the same cliff. "Take that Van Helsing! I hate you!"

"Well I hate you too!"

"Well I certainly won't kiss you!"

"Me neither mmmff."

This is too much for Frankenstein's Monster. "Nobody loves meeeee!"

Velkan is happily getting a yogurt massage at this time and has nothing to do with the proceedings.

"They're a thorry lot marthter." Igor observes.

Dracula gives Igor a surprised look, "You've been reading those Pratchett novels again!"

"Yeth marthter."

"Well snap out of it." Dracula growls. "Help me think of what to do next. We've run out of characters to rant about."

Igor shrugs, "I dunno. Maybe you should end the rant."

A weird little man with long curly white hair runs on screen, holds up a stick to people, mutters numbers in their faces and runs off.

Dracula and Igor look at each other and shrug.

"Do you know what that was all about?"

"Me neither."

"I suppose you could interview Marishka, Verona, and Aleera."

"They're in Cuba for the weekend."

"Well you could nail the minor characters like that Catholic dude. And the famous surviving cow."

Dracula is in his 'musing' pose. He is looking up at the ceiling dramatically.

Igor shrugs, "Or we could go find Stephen Sommers and torture him for putting us through all of this in the first place."

Dracula snaps his fingers, "That's it."

"YEAH KILL STEPHEN SOMMERS!" a mob of yogurt covered people shout, waving their pitchforks and their bottles of crazy glue.

"Cut his budget!" a skinny young-looking man named Brian Singer yells.

"Make _him_ write disclaimers for all the characters _he_ ripped off!" the author shouts and types random words into h/s/I's computer. The random words later move north and become the disclaimer that you read at the beginning of the chapter.

Anna and Van Helsing come up for air and then start kissing again.

"But where would we find him?" Velkan asks, "We don't know where he lives."

Dracula raises his hands and the entire mob falls silent. "I have a plan."

"Ooooooo."

Dracula motions for the camera to follow him and he starts walking across the soundstage. Parked on one end of the building is a large rainbow-colored bus with the words 'The Electric Mayhem' marked in big letters on the side. Dracula tosses the small fuzzy creature out of the driver's seat and everyone climbs inside. He hotwires the engine and drives the entire getup outside.

The band in the backseat begins playing the musical number that the author promised at the end of the previous chapter. Unfortunately, Monster and Van Helsing sit on them and squash them. Monster spends the rest of the trip lamenting over their poor little broken velveteen bodies. Van Helsing starts singing '99 bottles of beer on the wall'.

And the quest begins for the sixth time….

Will they reach Stephen Sommers house without running afoul of, for one, highway patrol? What is that strange cloud of three white grisly looking girls and several thousand cute flappy bat things that is trailing behind the bus? Does Dracula know how to drive a stick shift? Find out next time in…

Dennis the Menace in Kensington Gardens, or We're Off To See the Wizard.


	7. Bring Me the Broomstick of the

**The Cupboard and the Phantom** –I have no intention of ending the rant. Even if I have to start ranting about other movies. But I'm sure Van Helsing is a crappy enough movie that I'll have plenty to rant about for some time to come. Suggestions are welcome though. Btw…I know who the Phantom is…but what's the Cupboard?

**Larnde Solen**—Discworld Igor, out of all of the Igors that I have ever seen, is by far the most squishable. Therefore I am prejudiced heavily in his favor.

**Eruannalaviriel**—Yeah, chapter six was a little random, wasn't it. I actually have thought most of this out. Well maybe some of it. I spent a lot of time wondering how I could fall in love with a movie that was so …lame. Sorry that you don't understand the Australian argot. As I have said in the past, take it up with Dracula, Van Helsing, and Carl and the inability to get rid of their accents. And learn some new slang too! (See mom? My writing is educational!)

**Joker()** —I'm really really trying to update once a week. Really… No really. Busy world, busy life. If you want the real excuse, I'm searching the world for an agent for my comedy vampire novel series. It's a bloody hassle. If you know one, send him my way and I'll have my minions carry him to my foreboding castle deep in the forest.

**Etherealfire**—Oh yeah, the barmaid! I honestly forgot all about her…hmmm. (cackles maniacally) Thank you! Be assured that your suggestion will eventually (probably this chapter) find it's way into the tangled plot!

A/N: Dracula's Rant is about to get more complicated with location jumps, POV's and maybe even a plot! Since we've finished with how all of the characters suck we'll move on behind camera…perhaps even lay siege to Universal Studios or something. I think our gang could take out a whole passel of executive CEO producer hotshots. Actually I think Dracula could do it all by himself. And if we get done with all that and people actually still read this we can rip apart the other movies that Rox, Jackman, and Dwenham have made. It should be fun.

Disclaimer: Dracula, Van Helsing, Frankenstein's Creature, and The Wolfman are all in the public domain and have been for like half a century. So I DO OWN DRACULA! BOO YAA! AND SO DO YOU! YOU CAN SELL HIM AND MAKE MONEY! Anna Valerious, Velkan Valerious, Marishka, Verona, Aleera, Carl, and all the greasy little grey CG rat babies are all copyrighted by Universal so STEVEN SOMMERS DOESN'T OWN THEM EITHER! NYAH!

Contrary to most of my disclaimers all of the information in this one is actually correct.

……

interesting fact of the day: 'goodbye' in Egyptian Arabic sounds like 'My Salami'

interesting fact of yesterday: 'you're welcome' in Japanese sounds like 'Don't touch my mustache'

Non-interesting fact of life: the only country in the world that speaks English without an accent is Australia. (Oz-tralyer)

…..

gee can you tell I'm having trouble writing this or what? Ok, I'm actually starting now

* * *

Secret spy camera planted on Stephen Sommer's desk by the Pope blinks on.

Stephen Sommers is looking at his computer and giggling. He is not reading fanfiction (in case you were wondering) he is playing minesweeper. He doesn't even remember that he directed the movie Van Helsing because that was like, a whole year ago man. Strangely enough, up in the rafters on his ceiling, there is a little computer nook that the author is sitting in looking down on him and typing this. It may be a bizarre coincidence, but that's life.

All of the sudden (!) he opens his word processor…which is probably insanely expensive and specially made for writerly people…and begins typing furiously. He is muttering to himself and giggling.

"…ok and so when the whole planet is like gonna blow up man, it's so totatlly freaking everyone out and then they get this like creepy master race survival of the fittest thing going on and …oh man I forgot about the characters! Who should I have star in my new movie? Hmm…who's actually left…well there's Peter Pan,…oh yeah, I know, Peter Pan meets Sherlock Holmes and Anne of Green Gables and they all kill this one guy….yeah…."

Stephen Sommers names the file "The Zap Ray Aliens from Prince Edward Island Versus Captain Hook." After a few more hours of typing, he decides to call it "When Worlds Collide."

"Mummy I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be driving on this side of the road."

"What do you mean?" Dracula downshifts the bus expertly and weaves easily between the oncoming traffic on the Los Angeles Freeway 1. "Besides it's too late, I'm in the toll section, I can't get out of the lane because there are spikes on either side."

Anna looks up from her nailpolish, "Could you not hit so many cars? I'm trying to do a French manicure."

Monster puts down the roadmap, "Oh cool! Where'd you get that?"

"Van Helsing gave it to me."

"Besides, _everyone_ knows that you should drive on the left side of the road. How do you expect to make left turns if you don't drive on the left side of the road." Dracula grumbles.

"But isn't Transylvania in the whole European Union thing with France?" Carl muses to no one in particular. "I thought they drove on the same side of the road as Americans did."

Dracula rolls his eyes, "You idiot. I don't actually _drive_ _cars_ in Transylvania. It's a horses only country. Decided by City Hall and everything. Says it creates ambiance." He swerves the bus around and over several other small California-style compact cars. There are crunching noises. Igor looks pleased.

Monster trudges to the back of the bus and sits down next to Van Helsing.

Van Helsing looks like he needs a drink. Monster pulls out a bottle of absinthe and hands it to him.

"I always wondered," Van Helsing says, "How you had the amazing good fortune to grow up in a brewery drinking, like, nothing but booze. I don't remember where I grew up, but I remember a whole bunch of Israelites committing suicide and killing their kids and stuff."

"Is this always how you start a conversation?"

"You asked." Van Helsing downs the entire bottle of absinthe, "Or wait…did you ask?"

"No."

"Well then I'm just reading your mind aren't I."

Monster leans in closer and whispers conspiratorially, "You know, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."

Van Helsing looks as perplexed as he possibly can. That is, without scrunching up his eyes or forehead because it's bad for his complextion and will make him get wrinkles in five years when he's fifty and stuff.

Monster takes this as encouragement, "I go to this great AA group. They really do things differently, and they can tell if you're cheating on the program because Dracula goes to and tastes everyone's blood to make sure there's no alchohol in it."

There are faint grinding noises as the mechanical parts in Van Helsings rusty little brain click into place, "Dracula's an alchoholic?"

"Only secondarily. He goes to the Bloodsuckers Anonymous meeting beforehand."

"Oh. That explains a lot."

"Like what? How does that explain anything?"

"Well his lousy temper. And the ponytail." Van Helsing licks the bottle of absinthe longingly, "_I_ for one don't need AA. I can handle my liquor perfectly just instafantasextabulently."

Van Helsing falls into a coma and begins drooling.

Monster chuckles evilly, "Oh silly me!" He searches around in his pockets, "Here's the absinthe bottle. I accidently gave him a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster."

There is no point to this exchange, except that the author really loves Hitchhikers Guide and is thrilled that they finally, finally, finally made an actual movie of the thing. With an actual plot. And actual characters. And puppets and none of this CG crap.

Back in the front of the bus Velkan is looking nervously out the window. "Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna?"

"DRACULA!" Anna hollers, "He's POKING ME AGAIN!"

"Look do I have to pull this car over and come back there?" Dracula growls and smashes over a brand new convertible corvette.

"But Anna it's important! Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna?"

Anna punches him in the head and starts to cry, "Stupid brother. Dracula's gonna SPANK you!" Anna begins tightening all the buckles on her corset another notch.

"Anna what do I do when it's daytime and you can see the moon?" Velkan asks just as the moon comes out from behind some random clouds. He starts turning into a werewolf.

Anna peels a strip of Velkan-skin off of her arm, looks at it with unmitigated horror, and begins to scream. Really really scream.

Velkan is so frightened that he only manages to turn halfway into a werewolf, then stops. Dracula is so frightened that he loses control of the bus, smashes off the edge of the freeway, over the edge of a cliff and crashes into the scrub. Some bushes catch on fire. Carl is in the bus during all of this, but he wasn't acting funny so he didn't get any lines.

"But how can I get that big romance scene in zero gravity if I don't have Hercule Poirot make it onto the rockety space thing? How? Then Anne of Green Gables would never be discovered as the murderer! Poirot has to get on the ship. But no one likes him so then he'd have to sneak on. Yeah! He'd kill the guards and sneak onto the ship and hide out in the laundry room! Yeah, that's totally Poirot right there! A little sneaky, a little devious. I'll cast a really skinny actor in the part. He should be blonde too. I'll make a note of that."

The telephone rings.

Stephen Sommers looks exasperated, gives his keyboard one last lusty sentence, and swivels his chair over to pick up the phone, "Yello poopsie?"

"Uh….sir?"

"Oh dahling, just tell me all about it?"

"Um this is the Los Angeles Police. We just received a death threat against you."

"Mahvelous. Who was it from?"

"Well it was written in gothic blackletter font and the ink is sorta reddish brownish and smells like alcohol. We're running a DNA sample on it right now." There is a slight pause, "It appears to be a man by the name of….Hubert Jackman."

"My word! How fascinating. By the way do you like the accent? I always thought Peter Pan would be cool with a Talullah Bankhead accent."

"We'll be in touch, Mr. Sommers." The police officer hangs up.

Stephen Sommers rubs his hands together gleefully, "Oh this is such fun! I love writing screenplays."

Out in the middle of nowhere, on a not so busy afternoon, a group of straggly and sometimes rather hairy beings wander up to U.S. Border Checkpoint 428.

"I'll have to see some identification?" The very tall, very muscular, very pro-basketball-football-rugby-esque guard says amiably to Dracula.

Dracula thinks for a minute. Then the sky goes black, thunder crashes mightily, and an ominous wind begins to sweep through the canyon. "I am Prince Vladislaus Draculea the Third. Born 1431, assassinated by Basarab cel Battrin Laiota in 1476."

"Wait that's not how they did it in the movie." Carl protests, counting on his fingers, "In the movie it rhymed. It was like this cool little poem."

Dracula glares at him, "I would think that I would know when I was born and not some poet." He waves his hands and the sky goes back to normal.

The guard shakes his head and sighs, "Now that's not a government issued ID there is it now?"

"How about I fry your guard shack with a bolt of lightning?"

"Now now," The guard does a blurry military movement thing and Dracula is securely handcuffed, "I don't want to hear any hostility, so I'll just have to take you all down to do a routine check on you." He looks up and surveys the motley crew. "You in the corset, and you the hairy dude, and the tall one in the rubber suit, who is that guy you're carrying?" The guard walks up to Van Helsing and yells at him until he wakes up. "What is your country of citizenship?"

Van Helsing's eyes are wobbling around out of sync, "Mi amigo. No tengo frijoles hue."

The guard snaps his fingers and a SWAT team moves out of the bushes and handcuffs everyone. "Take all of the dark haired ones to the checkup center."

"Hey but I'm not Mexican!" Carl protests. "I'm only a blonde!"

"Yeah me too!" Anna whispers in a weak ashamed little voice.

The guard looks at her and laughs. "Ok, any more blondes that would like to register the fact before I run security checks on all of you?"

Dracula gulps. "Actually…."

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't register any Vladislaus Draculea III in the census records."

"Wait," Carl says incredulously, "You're blonde?"

Dracula is turning red. "Well look under Richard Roxburgh."

The guard smiles and laughs good naturedly, "Yeah, I saw him in a movie once, Van Helsing. No dice Hernando, I need some government issued ID or you get to cool your heels in jail for a couple months."

"Wait," Anna says incredulously, "You're blonde?"

"What if I make you a deal?" Dracula grinds his teeth together, "I'll _not_ lose my temper and kill everyone in sight if you let us go."

"What if I make _you_ a deal?" The guard continues typing unconcernedly, "You shut up and I won't duct tape your mouth closed?"

"Wait," Velkan says incredulously, "You're blonde?"

"How about I send you on a free trip to Cuba with three gorgeous fifteen-year old mental patients one of whom is my wife?"

"How about you let me do my job, and I'll let you do your job. Everyone will be happy. And by the way, you're not blonde."

"Wait," Monster says incredulously, "You're blonde?"

"Really officer, I can explain everything." Dracula frowns, looks off into the distance and waves his hands. Lightning cracks. Dracula pulls a wallet out of his pocket. "Look, here's my drivers license."

Somewhere in the world, Richard Roxburgh notices that his wallet has been stolen.

"Wow," the guard is not impressed, "After all that time, you finally come up with an ID, amazing! Magic trick I suppose?"

"Sorta."

"Wow, that's good." The guard says sarcastically, "Richard Roxburgh eh? However, it doesn't say that you were born in 1431, so it's no good. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."

"Look I tried, I really tried." Dracula says to everyone. "I really really tried and it did no good."

Van Helsing's brain groggily registers the fact that Dracula is a natural blonde. It is too much for his sanity. He pops out his Wolverine claws and starts slashing up the border guard's computer. "NOOOOO It's not TRUEEEE it's ALL TOO HORRIBLE! AAAAAHAHAAHAAHA! Oh gosh I feel better!"

Dracula teleports them all to Stephen Sommers front lawn. "Get a grip, mate."

"Wait, if you could do that, why didn't you do that before?" Velkan gurgles hairily from his half-werewolf state.

"As I told you before, I am a law-abiding citizen! I'm a good guy! Events conspire against me! I have been vilified by the media! All I want to do is live a normal life with my wife and kids! Do you understand?"

Everyone looks at Dracula blankly. Then they nod.

"Good." Dracula claps his hands together, "Right then. Let's go kill Stephen Sommers."

Back at the Border Patrol Unit, the guard sends out an APB for one Vladislaus Draculea III, aka. Richard Roxburgh, black hair, blue eyes, 5'11" accompanied by a large man in a rubber suit, a dominatrix chick in a corset, a Catholic Priest, and a hideous dog. He does not mention Van Helsing, and instead puts a top secret call through to Weapon X project in Washington. Then he picks up the phone.

"Hi, Rox, we've got your wallet again in case you were wondering."

"Thanks mate, third time this arvo. Any explanations?"

"You must just be unlucky. Either that or a fanfic writer just has it in for you."

"Thanks mate, oi'll be over after the audition."

"And after the cream-pie fight we should have the whole spaceship get blown up when they steal the cars and ram through the walls and fly across the sky and then land on the one guy's house and then they go and kill him and unlock the mystical army which they have to kill." Stephen Sommers is obviously on a roll. His muse is musing. His budget department probably hates him, but what's new? Everything's been _Sommersized_. Only the latest crappy CG will do. And he has to blow up atleast _one_ million dollar set. Stephen Sommers makes the decision that this time he'll really outdo himself. He'll blow up _all_ of his sets. With digital zombie exploding alien that he'll have to digitally recreate each member of the cast in order to make.

At the highest moment of his genius, there is an annoying knock on the front door.

"Would you get that Trixie?" Stephen Sommers says absently.

"They say you are what you eat," says the Van Helsing barmaid heretofore named Trixie, emerging from the bedroom. "And I'm fast, cheap, and easy."

She flounces to the door and opens it. Carl is standing there open-mouthed.

"Who are you?" she asks with all the Van Helsing Patented Long Lost Lover's Passion.

Carl smiles, "I'm only a friar…hey haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

Trixie shakes her head, "'Fraid I don't remember. Did you order the lap dance or the full special?"

Dracula pushes by them both, "Carl you should definitely _become_ a monk. Why hello my old friend Stephen Sommers! Looking corpulent and lugubrious as always!" He walks up to the man puts a fist through his computer screen, and spins the swivel chair around to face the rest of the VH cast. "Do you have any last words?"

Stephen Sommers looks confused, "Happy Birthday?"

Dracula whacks him upside the head.

"I meant...Surprise Anniversary?" Stephen Sommers rubs his head, "Say what's gotten into you Rox? What happened to 'no worries mate no worries at all'?"

"I'm not Richard Roxburgh, I'm Prince Vladislaus Draculea, born 1431, slanderously hashed 2004."

"Say you got the dates wrong there buddy." Stephen Sommers smirks. "You _look_ like Richard Roxburgh."

"Only because that was the image that you forced upon the unsuspecting public. I used to look like Bela Lugosi. Once I even looked like Gerard Butler."

Stephen Sommers blinks, "And you are complaining about this…why?"

"Because you made me into a polygamist! And you murdered my children with your computers! And you hired the Wolverine to kill me! Why should I not complain?"

Van Helsing sloshes slowly upright. As has not been previously explained, since he is Wolverine, he really can't get drunk, but also since he is the Left Hand of God, (Archangel Gabriel? Hazard a guess) just smelling alcohol makes him swoon. And to combine these two natures, he can or can not get drunk depending on which costume he's wearing. Don't ask me.

Right now he's slammed.

"Stevie boy!" He lurches forward, falls on his face and promptly goes to sleep.

"And look what you've done to _him_." Dracula points out.

"But what did I do?"

"You directed the movie."

"But what did I do?"

"You directed and _wrote_ the movie." Dracula leans forward and sneers, "What was reading the Bram Stoker novel too difficult for you, was it?"

"Well I did get sorta bored with the shopping lists. Have _you_ read the Bram Stoker novel?"

Dracula takes a deep breath, "That's beside the point! I hereby sentence you to death for slanderous defamation of character."

"Couldn't you sentence me to slanderous defamation of character for killing you in the movie?" Stephen Sommers suggest.

"What do you think the author is doing right now?"

"How about I lead you to the lost secret goldmine of the pirates of the lost secret order of the knights of the first crusades champion of arms monks of the Egyptian desert's hidden tomb of lost souls!"

"Let me guess, is this the plot to your next movie?"

Stephen Sommers shakes his head, "No my next movie has all that and aliens and a government conspiracy and Canadians and Peter Pan."

Dracula groans.

"And a flaming asteroid of death."

Dracula walks to the nearest wall, grabs the nearest sword of the nearest family crest on the wall and stalks back toward Stephen Sommers.

"No Stop!" Anna throws herself dramatically around, Pocahontas style, "If you kill him, you will ruin our chance to get to the lost secret island of buried treasure! He's the only one who has a map."

"He's intentionally ripping of Robert Louis Stevenson and you want me to let him _live_?" Dracula does the angry-Dracula face and frightens the author's socks off.

Anna does the Bambi-Eyes.

"Fine."

"And now you're ripping off Lilo and Stitch." Anna points out.

Dracula glares at her and grabs Stephen Sommers by the shirt, "Mate you'd better take us to wherever, and quick as a lick."

"Sure, sure Mr. Drag-u-lee-ah."

"And pronounce my name right. It's Draculea."

"Maybe I should call you Vlad."

"No, I think not."

Dracula makes a dramatic gesture and everone is magically sober and listening to him, "Orright mates. We got a treasure to find."

"You know I was thinking of becoming a nun," Trixies muses to Monster.

"I'm a nun." Carl says. "It's fun. You can make cupcakes."

"Ok we're leaving now." Dracula pulls Stephen Sommers out of the door.

"Hey we can take my spaceship, it's parked out back." Stephen Sommers suggests in a weasily manner.

Dracula squashes the weasily manner. He points with his finger, "Everyone follow me!"

The strains of a Sousa march played by the New York Philharmonic accompany Dracula's heroic hand pointing.

They walk out back and climb into a bus that doesn't look anything like the Electric Mayhem bus. Except for the small furry animals inside and the name Electric Mayhem painted on the outside in psychedelic colors.

Van Helsing and Monster squash the furry little sock puppets.

Monster cries over their poor little squashed bodies. Van Helsing doesn't care, and instead tries to squash Anna too.

"Now where are we going?" Dracula starts the engine.

"Universal Studios, just follow the signs to the theme park." Stephen Sommers makes blastoff noises and pretends to be talking to 'mission control'

What will happen when the cast of Van Helsing appears at Universal Studios Theme Park? How can we possibly pretend not to know the answer? Do you spell pandemonium with one or two u's? Does it matter?

Find out next time in The Sound and the Fury, or It's a Hard Knock Life For Us.


	8. It's a Small World After All

Cupboard and the Phantom: Oh, now I see….and I love it! Raoul is always hiding in cupboards! Ahaha!

Disclaimer: If you still think I own Dracula after all these disclaimers, I sure hate to disappoint you. Actually Dracula is, deep down inside, really deep down, he's actually Mickey Mouse, although he prefers the name 'Steamboat Willie.'

* * *

"I think you were supposed to turn right at that WalMart back there." Anna looks at the map. It is now torn in several pieces.

"No no." Stephen Sommers says, "Just go straight for that big tall white mountain."

"Does anyone have a pair of sunglasses?" Dracula yells above the high stakes poker game that is going on in the back of the bus. "I a vampire, ok? I don't do this sun thing."

"Oh ----" Carl swears in friarly tones. "You won again." He throws his two pair at Monster and pouts.

"Ok, so now you have to take off the little pieces of plastic that make your ears stick out." Monster says happily.

Carl looks bleak, "Wouldn't you rather me take off my shoes?"

"Nope."

"But I _like_ having my ears stick out."

"No dice. Play fair or I'll make Velkan eat you."

"Mates I need a bloody pair of sunglasses good and bloody quick or we'll all be in a mess. The cops have been open slather on us so far but the anchors in this bomb are bloody jacked and if I can't bloody see the road we're bloody going off it!"

Van Helsing absently reaches into the pockets of his long underwear and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. He hands them to Dracula. They are yellow cat's eye sunglasses with rhinestones in the edges.

Dracula apparently doesn't notice this because he puts them on without comment.

"I'm in." Velkan says gleefully. He has lost all of his clothing and has subsequently changed into a werewolf. Now he's pulling off pieces of his skin for every time he loses.

"I'll see you the five and raise you." Van Helsing mutters.

"Are you sure that this is the way to Universal Studios?" Dracula asks suspiciously. "I'm beginning to think that we're in Anaheim."

Stephen Sommers is fiddling around under the dashboard. There are sparks. He pulls out a bag of popcorn. "Oh yeah, I'm sure this is the way to Universal. Trixie used to work there at the Jurassic Park ride."

"Is that why I can see Sleeping Beauty's Castle and Space Mountain?"

Stephen Sommers sits up abruptly, "Ooh the Matterhorn, we must be in Switzerland! How did we get here? I can almost smell the chocolate and anonymous bank accounts!"

"Nooooo! Not my hat!" Van Helsing howls.

"Oh come on. I'm sure not having you take off that long underwear."

"But my hat!"

"You'll live."

"Wow," Anna comments, still looking at the map, "I hear this strange rushing/flapping/distant moaning noise that seems to be getting closer. Is the ground shaking?"

"My children?" Dracula asks and turns around. However this brief moment of distraction is all that is needed to sweep the Electric Mayhem and our hero into the rushing throng of the Pilgrims of the Mouse. The bus ends up in the queue for the parking garage along with fifty million other cars.

* * *

"I'm sorry Miss, You'll have to park in Pinocchio, you're too tall for the garage." The parking attendant says cryptically in Dracula's direction.

Stephen Sommers starts making hand motions, "We no speak the Swedish! Is Americans!"

"No we are bloody not!" say several manly voices from the strip poker game.

"That will be forty six dollars Miss." The attendant rolls her eyes.

"Can I pay by credit card?" Dracula asks and hands the attendant a Super Platinum Diamond Adamantium Kryptonite Visa Card.

"Certainly Miss… Mr. Roxburgh." The attendant says, "May I see a drivers license?"

Dracula produces the necessary documentation with a poof of glittery stuff and some lightning.

"By the way," the attendant says when she hands him the parking permit, "I love the shades."

"All right, everyone," Dracula yells into the back seat, "Get dressed, we're going to Disneyland."

"But, but!" Stephen Sommers says desperately. "Watchmakers! Yodeling! Goat Cheese!"

"But, but!" Igor says desperately, "I was winning!"

* * *

"Don't look at them and they won't look at you." Dracula hisses, "Now get in the tram."

Velkan is shaking all over, "Does it move?"

"Yes. That's why everyone is getting in it."

"Really fast?"

"No. Obnoxiously slow."

"Will it hurt?"

Dracula pushes Velkan into the tram, "Not at all."

"That's what you said when I asked if the lightning surgical table contraption was a tanning bed."

"Well you did get tan, didn't you? Sure it was a little crispy in spots, but it was completely ultraviolet free. Just think of how I've reduced your risk of skin cancer." Dracula smiles toothily at the spikey-haired Goth teenagers he sits down next to.

Van Helsing flops across the tram and goes to sleep in Dracula's lap. "Tan me hide when I'm dead, Fred." He mumbles inanely in a rich 'Oh what a beautiful morning' tenor.

The rest of the Van Helsing characters manage to squeeze inbetween strollers and vomiting infants and children with colds and umbrellas and backpacks full of PBJ's. The tram lurches forward.

One of the Goths edges nervously closer to Dracula, "Um, Mr. Roxburgh sir, could I have your autograph?" She holds out a pen and a Disney manufactured, officially sanctioned autograph book.

Dracula smiles at her winningly. "Certainly dear, what's your name?" He pushes up Van Helsing's sleeve.

"Uh, my name? My real name? It's sorta like, well I like to be called Susan the WarRider of Darkness."

Dracula stabs Van Helsing's arm repeatedly with the pen, signs his 'to Susan with love' with a flourish and hands her back the autograph book. She takes it happily and scoots back over to her friends. The other Goths take one look at the autograph and hand her over some Yu-Gi-Oh cards.

The man sitting next to Velkan begins sneezing violently. Velkan tries hard not to smell like a wet dog.

Eventually the tram halts. Not before someone asks Carl to absolve him from his sins.

* * *

The bored looking woman at the clothing counter barely even glances up at Dracula. "I'm sorry Ma'am but we don't sell tickets to the park here. You have to walk through Downtown Disney and over to the Security Station at the Park Entrance."

Dracula pulls off his sunglasses and slams them on the counter. "Ok, look, why is everyone calling me Ma'am and Miss and Mother? Is it the sunglasses? Is it the rhinestones?"

The sales clerk sighs, "Maybe it's the ponytail, earrings, and dress."

"I am not wearing a dress!"

"Ook lookee!" Anna makes strange noises, "Pink Colored Hot Chocolate! Maybe it's tuna fish flavored!"

"Mister," the sales clerk leans across the counter, "You will be responsible for everything that your children break."

Dracula leans forward too, "I'll have you know that _my_ children are small, grey and batlike and they are perfect little angels."

The sales clerk doesn't blink, "I remember them, they came through this morning. All wearing matching lime green sweaters and hats with orange bobbly eyes on antennas. About six thousand of them?"

"More or less? Did you see Sylvia…er Verona?"

"The chick with no boobs? They were heading for Splash Mountain."

Dracula takes her hand and shakes it heartily, "Thank you very much. You have reunited me with my children and it will only be a matter of time before we subdue the world with our nefarious schemes! When the revolution comes you will be remembered!"

"Don't mention it."

Dracula stands up backs away from the table, spreads his arms wide and laughs up at the brightly painted orange ceiling. Lightning cracks.

"Hey do you know where the guys went?" Anna hits Dracula on the back of the head with the can of Pink Hot Chocolate.

Dracula stops laughing.

"Because I thought I saw them wander off to the Princesses section." Anna finishes.

* * *

At a remote border guard station, the telephone rings.

"Hello?" the lone guard answers into it, "Yeah, we got it here again. You might want to call your credit card company and put a stop on your card. Also your credit bureau for a fraud alert. I think your identity might have been stolen. Yeah, see ya soon mate. Bye."

* * *

"Does this tutu make me look fat?"

"I really think you need those Little Mermaid Platform Shoes."

"I can see a member of the clergy carrying around a Tinkerbell Wand, can't you? You could perform miracles. You could be like the new Our Lady of Lourdes."

"I can never get that seashell bra to fit, it's been one of the most depressing things of my life."

"Actually I think you'd look better in the Pocahontas outfit. Fringe turns me on."

"Ok, how about this, I match the Jasmine Poofy Pants with this Sleeping Beauty bodice and then wear my hair like Snow White."

"Naw man. I think it looks better with a pink bow right _there._"

* * *

Note: Contrary to what it might seem, the previous conversation was not in fact held by the Van Helsing gang that Anna and Dracula are searching for. It was a conversation selected at random from the average Disneygoer. Our characters are somewhere else. Here is their conversation:

* * *

"Ooooooo Legos."

"Wow is that a full size Darth Vader?"

"Dude, it's the bricks."

"How do they get them to stick together?"

"They have Harry Potter keychains, why don't they have _me?_ Like what? I'm not as famous as Harry bloody Potter?"

"You're franchised to Universal. Disney wouldn't take the script. I tried to get them to make the movie but they wanted to add a Winnie-the-Pooh song to the part where all of Dracula's kids get blown into goo."

"I wonder if Dracula will let me buy this with his stolen credit card."

"You moron, Legoland isn't owned by Disney! They're their own independent company!"

"No, you mindless fictional creation, _everything's_ owned by Disney. Beware of the Mouse! It'll find you if you talk like that!"

"Stupid director! You didn't use my singing or dancing talents! _I'm_ not owned by Disney! Deal with my agent, drongo!"

"Shhh fool! Do you want to get us all killed!"

"Hey Igor, look what happens when I push _this_."

* * *

A sudden hush descends over the crowded shops and bustling people.

"Will Mr. Charlie Dracula come to Lost and Found? His party is waiting for him."

* * *

"You thought my name was _Charlie?_" Dracula grabs Van Helsing and smashes him against he nearest Disney cast member.

"Well Monster thought your name was Elizabeth and Velkan was voting for Ferdinand, so Igor and I teamed up and paged you as Charlie." Van Helsing tries to smile.

"Didn't I tell you my name in a dramatic enough fashion? Prince Vladislaus Draculea the Third?"

the author cannot stand referring to Dracula as 'Count' h/s/I considers it a travesty of justice.

Van Helsing concentrates really hard, "Um, wait, Vera's House Drag Ooh-La-La." Something in his brain clicks, "Is that why you wear the dress?"

Dracula looks hurt, "But we've had such history, you and I."

"But I'm an amnesiac, remember? At least I think I'm an amnesiac. If you're some kind of house calling kinky Drag Queen I certainly _hope_ that I'm an amnesiac."

"Don't worry, I'll burn you alive at the stake for that comment. Don't you be sarcastic to me, young man." Dracula grabs him by the ear and starts dragging him toward the park, "Look I bought the tickets, we're going to go in there and find my children."

"You lost your children in _Disneyland_?" Velkan snorts. "And you expect to _find_ them?"

Monster's lower lip starts trembling, "Mumsy, you won't lose _me_ in Disneyland, will you?"

Igor pulls a handily concealed cattle prod out of his pants. "Stop crying! I can't stand crying! You sniveling brat! Respect your elders!"

"Hey I think we lost Anna." Van Helsing whines up at Dracula.

"No, she went to the restroom so she could tighten her corset in private. We are waiting here for her." Dracula says, "Do you have any idea how hard this is? If any of you misbehave, I'll hunt you down and suck all of your blood. And you are not buying any, I repeat, no souvenirs!"

"Well we might as well stand in line for the security check," Velkan says. "It doesn't look like it's moving very quickly."

* * *

Three hours later, the security guard has to call his manager, and his manager has to call his supervisor, and his supervisor has to call his company representative, and his company representative has to call Roy Disney. Roy Disney's secretary says that he can't be bothered.

"Uh, I think we should let them through," The security guard says tentatively.

"I don't believe those two can turn into werewolves. That's physically impossible." The supervisor is thumbing through a Disney Security Rulebook.

Velkan gets this eager look on his face, "Want me to show you?"

Dracula elbows him in the gut.

"And that one," The company representative points at Dracula, "He can't be a vampire. His teeth are straight."

"That's because he can stick his fangs out or pull them in any time he wants," Anna says helpfully.

Dracula glares at her.

"I don't think we should let the Monk in, separation of Church and State and all that," the supervisor comments, "He might try to proselytize someone."

Carl goes pale, "But I'm only a friar."

"Oh, well that's settled then," the supervisor checks an item off of a list, "Now about the vampire."

"Um, sir, we let that group of six thousand vampires in this morning." The security guard hazards.

"But that was a school field trip." The supervisor says. "This is entirely different." The man looks up at Dracula, "Do you have any weapons in your party to declare?"

Van Helsing slowly raises his hand and Dracula quickly zaps him with a bolt of lighting.

The security guard makes a grab for Dracula's hands, "I'm sorry sir, we'll have to take that away from you, you can keep it in a locker outside the park."

Dracula looks pained. He manages to convey the fact that he pities every single stupid poor mindless droning mortal that he meets. "Once again, I think I am justified in what I'm about to do."

The company representative looks up tensely, "What's that?"

"I'm going to reveal to you that I am actually an auditor for the Federal Trade Commission and that I an my colleagues are going to inspect your roller coasters to make sure that they meet with Consumer Product Safety Commission standards."

The security guard moves closer to his supervisor and begins muttering, "How would a guy with an Australian accent like that know about the US Consumer Product Safety Commission? Sounds suspicious to me."

"Oh please!" Anna throws her hands up in the air, "You boys just don't know how to do this." She takes the company representative by the hand, "Now I sure we can reach some kind of understanding here. Why don't you let myself and my companions enjoy your beautiful theme park? You wouldn't discriminate against us because we're racial minorities, would you?"

"Vampires are racial minorities?" Velkan asks snidely. Dracula bashes him in the head.

The company representative is starting to get a glazed look on his face, "Makes sense. Would you like a free lunch at one of our fabulous restaurants?"

Anna flutters her eyes a little and pinches the man's cheek, "Oh you are a dear little man! Thank you very much. Follow me men!" She marches the group through security, past the astonished ticket collectors, and straight into Fronteirland.

"Wow you are lucky." Van Helsing says admiringly.

"I'm hungry." Velkan whines.

"I wanted to go to Toontown," Stephen Sommers snivels.

"I'm scared of the man in the costume over there!" Carl bleats, pointing at Van Helsing.

"Um can we have your autograph?" several hundred people say to Dracula, assuming that he's owned by Disney because they read the disclaimer at the beginning of the chapter.

But Dracula is spellbound. Across the park, there is a line of six thousand grey flapping greasy things in lime green sweatshirts and orange bobbly eyed antenna-hats lining up for the Dumbo ride. At the head of the line, a woman in skimpy negligee is arguing with the ride attendant that three vampire bat babies should be able to ride in an elephant because they weighed significantly less than a normal child.

"Cara mia!" Dracula runs forward arms held wide.

"Oh not again." Verona rolls her eyes and tries to hide behind a very large diaper bag that is decorated with daggers and chalices.

"Daddy!" Six thousand bat babies shout exuberantly.

"KEEEEELLLL THEM ALLLLL!" Van Helsing reaches for his Tupperware can openers.

Anna tries to pull something large and spiky out of a Disney flowerbox plant display.

Stephen Sommers squints appraisingly at the bat babies and authoritvely states that the lighting is all wrong and perhaps they should have made them furry after all.

Carl smiles haplessly at the watching tourists, "I'm not with them. I'm only a friar."

Velkan has grabbed Van Helsing's hat and is executing street ballet for money.

What happened to Dracula ranting about stuff? Join us next week for Verona's Rant, a look at the movie Van Helsing from a vampire bride's point of view. Will Dracula get his block knocked off? How do you feed six thousand hungry vampire babies in a crowded amusement park?

Find out next week in Lady Dracula's Lover, or Miss Otis Regrets She Is Unable To Lunch Today.


	9. Under the Bamboo Tree

Gee it's been forever since I posted an update. I've been so _lazy_ I can hardly believe it. That's what getting a job will do to you. Hopefully I won't have to work anymore 40 hour weeks. Also I took on another novel…wish me luck!

Disclaimer: For Sale. 5'11" gothic monster. Blk/Bl Housebroken. AKA papers. Good with kids. $25 obo. Moving must sell.

* * *

"Go away. You're violating the restraining order!" Verona challenges loudly. She waves the diaper bag around in a menacing fashion.

"But Dearest!"

"I caught you making out with that Anna Valerious slut. Don't deny it! I was home watching the kids and you were groping some whore at a fancy dress ball."

"But dearest!"

"You were planning to elope with her and leave me all alone! I won't stand for it Vlad. It's a bad influence on the children. I'm leaving you and never coming back. You can go fornicate with that tramp. Just forget all your children and your wife."

"But dearest…"

Verona slaps Dracula in the face, morphs into the creepy-no-eyebrows-Verona and musters the children. They all fly off in the direction of Pinocchio's Great Adventure.

"Hey wait…" Van Helsing ruminates loudly in Dracula's direction, "You were going to elope with Anna?"

Anna snorts.

Dracula straightenes his coat and buttons a couple of buttons nervously. "It was a mid-life crisis, a one night stand, a youthful indiscretion."

Carl's mind explodes as he tries to comprehend how something can be a mid-life crisis and a youthful indiscretion at the same time. Some gunk gets on Monster/James Bond but everyone else is fine.

Carl absently begins wandering toward Fantasyland.

Several people, namely Dracula, Anna, and Velkan, try to hold him back, but it is to no avail.

They end up sandwiched between thousands of people and cunningly clipped creatively crafted carnival topiaries which were once self respecting plants.

Some of the mouse pilgrims begin hypnotically humming the theme song heard round the world…because it's a small world…after all.

"Quick we must chop down a tree and storm the queue barricades!" Van Helsing reaches for his can openers.

"Nobody panic, just take deep breaths, we shall be all right." Dracula says calmly. He is rather enjoying the idea of being in the dark with several hundred people so enamored by the colorful cultural citizens of foreign countries that they might not notice someone snacking on their neck.

"Hey that's a catchy tune." Carl points out.

Denethor Steward of Gondor jumps off the pages of Lord of the Rings, scampers across the author's room, leaps onto h/s/I's computer, through the screen, into the story, and tries to douse Carl in kerosene and burn him on a ceremonial pyre.

Disney employees quietly cart him away. He is never heard from again.

"That was harsh." Velkan comments.

"The author is random like that."

For that nasty little comment, the author sweeps them into the ride with a sweep of the keyboard. The music starts playing and our hero is swallowed in inane midi ditties.

* * *

Random camera that is floating around Disneyland blinks on.

"Is my hair ok? I thought I saw a curl in it today?" Verona is asking a yougurt covered Portuguese speaking conga dancing Star-Wars pantsing cameraman.

(Star Wars is best when you replace key words of Lucas' crappy dialogue with the word 'pants' It's really much better. There need to be more pantsed versions of Star Wars-end author rant)

Verona looks into the camera, stretches her jaw rather luxuriously, and clears her throat. "Welcome my comrades. This is a special edition of the DVD commentaries on the movie Van Helsing. I am here to give you a feminist perspective on my role as a vampire bride."

A passing tourist laughs at Verona and gets eaten alive by some of the vampire babies.

"I," Verona says dramatically, waving her boob-exposing lingerie around equally dramatically and moving her mouth in a w i d e l y and puckering dramatic and breathy manner. "Am a liberated modern female."

The vampire babies cheer.

"I am not a housewife. I have a useful career." Verona hefts her diaperbag over her shoulder. "I do not pander myself carnally. I have a college degree in law and I have won the Nobel Peace prize in Interpersonal Communication." She pauses to flutter her eyelashes as a vampire baby lands on her outstretched arm.

"Oh," say the cameramen, naturally a little confused, "Is that why you wear boob exposing lingerie. I wish more feminists were like you."

"Hey," say the camerawomen, "We think you are all clueless, and we're going to go and be cameramen on Oscar winning films."

"Oh I wear boob exposing lingerie because my polygamist husband beats me if I don't." Verona shakes her hair out of her eyes. "It's really quite comfortable. Sorta a combination daytime/nighttime wear."

"Oh," say the cameramen, "That makes sense. Very empowered of you."

The camerawomen have already left and are negotiating a contract with Spyglass Entertainment. The cameramen don't care because they never liked the camerawomen anyway.

"So," the cameramen say, zooming in for a closeup of Verona's sultry eyes, "How many children do you have anyways?"

"Oh, I'm pretty much always pregnant," Verona poses daintily, "But I really kept my

girlish pre-pubescent figure. I prefer the natural, renaissance look. I never wear shoes."

"Barefoot and pregnant." The cameramen say admiringly, "Turns me on."

"Oh thank you. I feel fulfilled when men admire me." Verona smiles, "Oh, would you excuse me for a moment? I think I just smeared my lipstick."

* * *

"Van Helsing? Van Helsing? I can't see! I can't see!"

"It's dark, you moron."

"Dark? Shouldn't we do something?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, I'm only a friar. Maybe we should kill it."

"Why should we kill it?"

"Is it the son of the devil?"

"I don't know."

"Will anything created by it also die?"

"Probably not."

"Oh, well nevermind then. What's that amazingly beautiful music that I hear?"

"I don't hear anything. Whoa check out that hula dancer!"

* * *

Deep in the dismal dingy depressing darkness of a water filled tunnel, there is a rustling struggling noise. No it's not what you think. Yet.

"May I help you with that child Ma'am?" Dracula says meekly and reaches for the squirming screaming squishy and sorrowful seven-year-old.

Through the faint light of torch holding singing mechanical Eskimos (who are sort of like Portuguese speaking yogurt covered cameramen, only shorter) A frazzled grandmother looks as pleased as pleased can be. "Oh thank you young man."

Dracula grins at the kid and sends him cowering against the seat, "Now what's the problem sonny?"

The boy takes one look at Dracula's very spikey looking mouthful of barracuda teeth closes his eyes and starts shaking.

"I love to see a young man that is so good with children," the grandmother smiles and her wrinkles smile and their wrinkles children's wrinkles smile. "These modern young people are so self absorbed. They don't know how to relate to children. Why back in my day," here she laughs a little, "In my day, it was very common that your parents died and you had to raise your younger children by yourself."

Dracula nods excitedly, "I remember that!"

"Young man, I'm speaking of almost a hundred years ago."

Dracula laughs, "Oh I'm not as young as I look. I'm almost five hundred years old."

"Eh? What was that? Stupid hearing aid."

Dracula leans closer and shouts louder, "I said I remember murdering my father and raising my brothers because I'm a five-hundred year old vampire!"

At that moment the boat emerges once again into the blazing sunshine, the music stops, and total silence descends upon the passengers.

The pilgrims in the vicinity of Dracula edge away, squishing some people out of the boat and into the manky looking water. The mouse police come and drag them away never to be seen again.

The stooped little grandmother looks up at Dracula with a confused expression, "You're a five hundred year old vampire? And you murdered your father and raised you brothers?"

Dracula looks around uncomfortably, but nods.

"You wouldn't be Dracula, would you?"

"Dracul_ea_," Dracula corrects her pronunciation and tries to strike the author with a bolt of lighting because h/s/I won't correct h/s/I's spelling.

"I remember when you book was first printed." The grandmother sighs and snuggles closer to Dracula, squishing aside the seven-year-old. "I'm a huge fan."

"Ah." Dracula is inordinately pleased with himself. "Would you care to hear some old Transylvanian war stories? Even though I'm actually a Wallachian Prince, not a Transylvanian Count."

"Erm what? Oh yes, my name is Maude. I'd love to have lunch with you." The grandmother looks around conspiratorially for a moment, then seizes the frightened child, "You can eat _him_."

* * *

It was only when they got off of the Teacups that Van Helsing and Velkan knew they were lost.

"I don't even like you." Van Helsing immediately looks over at Velkan, "I'm supposed to have Carl for a sidekick. He's more comedic."

"What you didn't think it was funny when I went rolling around on the wall and pulled all my skin off?"

"I thought ripping my shirt off and lunging for Drac was more impressive." Van Helsing straightens his hat, for lack of anything better to do. Also because he is obsessive compulsive and a psychotic perfectionist.

Velkan looks hurt. _He_ doesn't have a hat to straighten, so he folds his arms across his chest and pouts. "I could so kick your butt with tour jetes."

Van Helsing pauses dramatically and sniffs the wind. "I believe the lost and found is that direction."

"Why?"

"Because I have super werewolf senses."

Velkan thinks about this. "But _I_ have super werewolf senses and _I_ can't smell anything."

"That's because you're not in your werewolf form." Van Helsing says smugly.

Velkan thinks a little harder. "…but _you're_ not in your werewolf form." He says triumphantly after a few minutes.

"That's because I'm the Left Hand of God." Van Helsing grins, reaches in his pocket, fishes around for a bottle of Draino and drinks it.

Velkan asks Van Helsing for the Draino and uses it to moisturize his skin. "I never really understood about the Left Hand of God thing. Does it mean that you're like worse than the Right Hand of God which would be…Michael? And if _he's_ off killing gothic monsters then how could God dial a telephone? It just doesn't make sense."

At the mention of the word 'Michael', Van Helsing goes pale, sways around a little, staggers to a nearby drinking fountain, leans on it and pants, falls to his knees, crawls painfully across the concrete, reaches out with his hands despairingly, goes into a semi-death rattle, rolls his eyes up and collapses face first into the pavement.

Velkan screams and jumps back.

Some pilgrims of the mouse throw park maps at him and step on Van Helsing.

Van Helsing wakes up with a shoe in his mouth. "All of the sudden I just had this really cool thought."

Velkan is still trembling. "Stay away from me you scary person."

Van Helsing scratches his forehead in the most clichéd way imaginable. "For some reason I had this crazy idea that I'd suddenly gotten my memory back and that….oh crap." He gets to his feet and morphs into a rather enraged rabid werewolf.

The Disney guards take no notice of this because it would be racial profiling.

Having nothing else to do, Velkan changes into a werewolf and follows Van Helsing. They lope off toward the Pirates of the Carribean Blue Bayou Restaurant. People throw sticks for them to fetch. It takes a while for them to reach the restauraunt.

* * *

"Oh actually it means 'Son of the Dragon', not 'Son of the Devil'." Dracula explains patiently, taking another long sip from his straw. "You see my father was knighted by King Sigismund of Luxembourg as a special Knight of the order of the Dragon in the war against the Turkish Ottoman Empire."

"So in English, your name would be Draculson?" Maude the Grandmother takes another bite of clam chowder. Her dentures are floating in her waterglass.

Dracula nods, "You would have no idea what a mess my last name has gotten me into over the years. Everybody thinks I've made some kind of pact with Satan."

"Eh? Should I turn up my hearing aid?" Maude leans over and smiles drippily at Dracula, who seems very pleased to have a woman so much younger than him interested in him.

"And the name 'Vlad' too. That's an awful name. Did you know that not only my father and great-great-grandfather were named Vlad, but I also had TWO younger brothers named Vlad?" Dracula drops his head into his hands, "My family has no imagination. I was so happy when I got my angelic commission." He reaches for his straw. "I say, boy, would you hold still for a moment?"

"Now eat your ice cream so Mr. Dracula won't have to go chasing after you again." Maude scolds the boy, who, considering the circumstances, seemes rather happy to be eating three large ice cream sundaes with fudge and peanuts and sprinkles and candybars.

"What a happy looking family," the Disney waiters comment, mainly because they just immigrated to the United States from France last month and in France things like this happen all the time.

* * *

Outside the Pirates of the Carribean Ride, in one of the gift shops, an animal control officer is standing over two rather large grungy looking computer generated dogs writing on a notepad. He has a tranquilizer gun slung over his shoulder.

"Yup, that should do it." He says. "I'll take 'em off to the shelter and see if they get claimed." He peers into the digitalized scraggley faces, "Do you know that one of these puppies looks exactly like Hugh Jackman? It's so weird."

One of the nasty german-shepherd/Monster's Inc. mixes begins mumbling. "Michael! Michael! I remember now! I should have known it! I'm sooo going to kill him!"

The animal control officer looks at it quizzically and shoots it again with the gun. "Man I hate it when they do that. Last week had one talking about how all the dolphins had left earth and flown up to the sky."

Pilgrims of the mouse elbow the animal control officer out of the way to get to the swirly light-up toys.

* * *

"Wait, they said they would meet us at Space Mountain in three hours, right?" Anna looks at the sun and discerns the exact atomic time because she has unnaturally curly hair and is a gypsy.

"Maybe Van Helsing is getting his memory back. I had a religious experience on that Star Wars ride and I think I saw a vision of him." Carl looks cute and completely unwilling to fight a hundred thousand orcs just because he was feeling rejected.

"Why should he get his memory back!" Stephen Sommers says peevishly, "No one would be interested in _that_. It wouldn't sell! He wouldn't be a two dimensional character if he had a backround. That would be stupid. Just look at George Lucas. He hasn't written a three dimensional character in decades. He's a millionaire! I want to be a millionaire! More computer generated objects! Less plot!"

Trixie and Igor are sitting forlornly in a corner because the Author doesn't particularly like them. They are making out, though, so they shouldn't be having too terrible a time.

"Oooh you are sooo ugly!"

"I love the way you wear peasant rags!"

"Does your skin just rot like that or do you use Mary Kay?"

"You sleep in a corset?…oh man I've gotta get me some of _that_."

* * *

Will Stephen Sommers ever become a millionaire? Where is Verona and the kids? Does anyone hear the name Michael Draculson whispered on the winds of the near future? Is this just a stupid and sorta hilarious coincidence or is it the fact that he has black hair and pasty white skin?

Well I suppose you could find out next time in…. A Comedy of Terrors, or I'm Glad I'm Not Young Anymore.


	10. There's No Place Like

Well. I'm back. – Sam, Lord of the Rings

I returned – Douglas MacArthur, Manilla Bay

Watson! Good to see you old chap! – Sherlock Holmes, The Return of Sherlock Holmes

Hello Central! – The Connecticut Yankee, (In King Arthur's Court)

The Shadow Has Returned! – The Shadow, The Freak Show Murders

Helo agen. Thys iys Vlad. – Prince Vladislaus Draculea, The Improbable: Some Cosmetic Uses of Megalomania

Disclaimer: I am delusional. Also I am on summer break. I have a job now and a new novel bashing in my head simultaneously. Like I said, I'm delusional.

Apology: I can not actually chain Dracula to my house, so I suppose I don't own him.

Real Reason For Not Updating For EONS: Lazy butt. Messed up life. Was abducted by aliens. Won the Nobel Peace Prize and was in Switzerland for a month. Been mooning over the Phantom of the Opera again. Depressed out of skull by commissioned six foot oil painting of ships and crap. Would rather work on Chopin's Fantasie Impromptu. Or Rachmaninoff's second concerto. Reading Varney the Vampyre. Discovered the Scarlet Pimpernel dem me. Been avidly refusing to watch Star Wars III. Had Kittens. Forgot how to write in third person present tense. I dunno, what else will you believe? I'm lazy and I need to go back to London.

Well all stories have to end. So here goes.

* * *

"Where did you say you were going?" Anna waves her hand in front of Dracula's face.

"Even _I _think that's totally out of character for you," Stephen Sommers says incredulously, then bites his lip a little, "Ooo but wait, then if you and Van Helsing like had this thing going and then I could have the planets smash together and all the aliens come running over and Hercule Poirot and Anne Of Green Gables could take their bazookas and shoot all of the overpopulation of rabbits brought on by the nuclear winter and…" His voice trails off into mutterings.

Dracula looks around nervously, hoping that a camera has not just suddenly blinked on and is recording his conversation, "It's not because I _like_ Van Helsing or anything. I really need your brother back for my, er, medical experiments. And I have to burn Van Helsing at the stake for killing my children."

Anna raises an eyebrow, "Couldn't you just let the pound put him to sleep with all the other strays."

"Oh no," Carl pipes up, "Death by fire is a much better punishment for such irredeemable cruelty."

Dracula looks at Carl in astonishment.

"Only fire," Carl continues pleasantly, "Can symbolically and physically purge his soul and make it possible for him to enter purgatory instead of going straight to hell."

Dracula begins to smile wildly, mouth still open in astonishment.

"In fact," Carl muses, folding his friarly robes in a pensive fashion, "If we torture him first and obtain a confession, then we can lessen his time in purgatory too. We'd actually be doing him a favor, poor wretch."

Anna takes this opportunity to remove one of her tightly buckled Barbie-shaped legs and bash Carl over the head with it. "You are a part of the Inquisition! I knew it all along!"

Dracula makes a grab at the leg, "No wait! He's got a good plan!"

"Whoa," Steven Sommers says in admiration, "I sooooo should have put the removable legs in the movie."

"As a matter of fact," Carl says matter-of-fact-ly, "We should probably burn Anna because she's a Gypsy and a witch and all that…probably. And Velkan. Never liked him."

Dracula drapes his arm around Carl's shoulder, "I like the way you think, my son. But we should send Van Helsing straight to hell. No purgatory."

"Oh, you think?" Carl nods slowly. "Ok. I can see that."

"What happened to monks being 'peace on earth goodwill toward men' and all that?" Anna asks incredulously, screwing her leg back into it's socket.

Carl looks insulted. "I'm not a monk. I'm only a friar. And besides, I've spent my entire life working in a munitions factory. In fact, I'm better at killing monsters than Van Helsing. Watch this." Carl pulls out a hand grenade from his pocket and chucks it into a nearby pond.

Pieces of The Little Mermaid are later found in Knotts Berry Farm several miles to the south east. There is general relief among the population of teenage babysitters who were forced to watch the movie millions of times.

"But that still doesn't solve our problem." Stephen Sommers says gleefully, "How are we going to find Van Helsing and Velkan in some dog pound in Los Angeles when we don't have a werewolf who can track their scent?"

Dracula glares at him. "I can read your mind. Do not say what you are about to say."

"Actually. I was thinking that I could help." Stephen Sommers says nervously, edging away from Dracula but continuing anyways, "You see, whenever I write something on my computer, a year and a half later it becomes reality."

A computer immedieately descends from the sky/magic carpet floating computer lab that the author rides around in. Stephen Sommers reaches for it gleefully.

"I hate to interrupt you," Dracula says in an exasperated voice, "But we don't have a year and a half to wait. We have to find them within two weeks or the pound will put them down and I won't get to roast them on a spit over a slow fire."

"Not Velkan!" Anna screams desperately.

Dracula rolls his eyes, "Ok. Not Velkan."

Stephen Sommers is crestfallen. "You mean, I can't use my godlike powers over the movie industry to get us out of this mess?"

"No."

"Someone else will save us from this mess?"

"Probably."

"It doesn't even matter that I wrote this little Frankenstein fanfic a year and six months ago about Frankenstein landing in Los Angeles and becoming divinely handsome?"

"No." Dracula says emphatically. "We are going to leave and find a telephone directory so we can look up where they went. It's as simple as that. I will not hypnotize anyone. I will not flap around in bat form. I will not crawl face first down the slimy walls of a dismal winter castle. Notice I am conducting myself as any human father would at this moment." Dracula holds his head up stiffly and begins walking out of the park.

Anna and Stephen Sommers pry Igor and Trixie's mouths apart and haul them kicking and screaming out of the poinsettias and force them to follow Dracula out of the park.

* * *

"What a nice man," Maude sighs, and pulls the straw out of the little boy's neck, "That's an example for you to follow child, a true gentleman."

* * *

Velkan wakes up with a strange thought. He has just dreamed that he is back with his mother in the dog basket, snuggling up to her warm belly. He wakes up with a bunch of fur in his doggie nose. He really is back with mother! How nice. He snuggles deeper into the fur and warmth and begins nuzzling the tightly stretched belly.

* * *

Van Helsing is dreaming too. He is dreaming of a wonderful smell. His paws twitch occasionally as he dreams he's chasing the wonderful smelling thing through the grassy fields. In the distance he can hear his mother howling for him to come back to the woods. Suddenly the wonderful smelling thing bites him.

* * *

Frank had been a driver for the Los Angeles City Pound for thirty five years. He'd heard a lot of strange things in his time. He's seen a lot of strange looking dogs in the rearview mirror.

However, he has never seen two very hairy, mostly naked men sitting as far apart as possible from each other and screaming their heads off.

Frank chalks one up to experience and shifts the car back in gear. Then he radios ahead saying that he'll need two extra strength tranquilizers to meet him at the dropoff point.

* * *

"Hey where's Monster?" Carl asks just as Dracula manages to pull the Electric Mayhem bus out onto Disney Boulevard.

"I don't care." Dracula says through clenched teeth.

"But we can't just let him wander around LA, he'll terrorize the populace and drown small children and stuff." Stephen Sommers says, aghast.

"Yeah," Anna looks up from fixing her cuticles, "Who knows what he'll do. I demand that we hunt him down with pitchforks and burn him alive."

"One more word out of you and we're going to give Velkan a permanent poodle cut." Dracula hisses, "Now everyone shut up and Igor give me the directions to the first animal shelter listing in the phone book."

"Yeth Marthter." Igor pries his hands of Trixie with some difficulty, "Now letth thee about thith…. Oo this looks like a good one it says that they specialize in tall blondes."

"Wrong category in the yellow pages."

"But it says doggie-land-o-rama." Igor protests, then cowers away from the anticipated nasty look that Dracula is going to give him.

Dracula gives him a nasty look.

"Yeth marthter." Igor goes back to his lisp. "There'th one on 6280 E. Franc Tireurth Thircle. But I don't know which freewayth to take."

Dracula rubs his hands together gleefully, "Behold my amazing power over the elements and the time-space continuum." He raises his arms dramatically.

Fortunately the bus is stopped at a light.

Dracula's hair begins to collect static electricity. "ON STAR!" He shouts, "Demons of Darkness hear my summons and aid me in my quest!"

"On Star, this is Michelle." A disembodied voice says pleasantly, but the pleasantness begins to fade after a while, "Say what?"

"Hell Denizen On Star give me the occult and secret knowledge of the hidden arts and light my way with green fire to the…wait, Igor, what's this place called?"

"Penny's Poodle Parlor."

"…Penny's Poodle Parlor of Incomprehensible Torture and the Ways of the Scholomance!" Dracula finishes.

There is a disturbed noise and a click and the disembodied voice goes away.

Dracula rolls his eyes, "Oh great, I forgot you have to give a blood sacrifice."

"Hey guys." Anna points up at the stoplights. "Remember how we are all like thinking this stoplights is just covered in some Spanish moss and stuff? Well I've been noticing that the Spanish moss smells like wet dog."

"Zounds! You're right!" Carl says, clapping both hands over his nose and moaning in anguish.

"And your point is?" Dracula is not impressed.

"Well I think it's werewolf fur. We should follow it through the city." Anna stretches really far out of the window of the bus and manages to grab the bathtub-drain-leftover looking patch of fur off of the stoplight. She can do this because the bus is really really tall. Really tall.

"So it's just one piece of fur. How can we possibly find them by just one piece of fur?" Dracula leans back and enjoys the sound of yet another stoplight scraping against the roof and snapping once it hits the back railing of the bus.

Anna looks at him peevishly, "Elementary my dear Watson. I am Sherlock Holmes! And I am a Gypsy Princess and incredibly lucky. Turn right at the next intersection. Besides I've done it before. Remember in the movie? It was easy. Just drive up to the most dank looking fortress in the vicinity."

Dracula sighs.

* * *

The air is smoky and dark even though it is the middle of the day. The light has been summarily shut out of the warm and dimly lit room by the general consensus of the patrons. Verona exhales the cigarette smoke and watches it curl gently across the room.

The kids the kids the kids. Being a single mom was tough enough for humans with one or two children. She'd been stuck with ten thousand plus. She could remember their names but not the exact number. They were in daycare now. While she was out supposed to be trying to get a job. The one at the McDonalds hadn't worked out. They'd wanted her to wear a uniform that wasn't boob exposing enough. Verona had told them to drop dead.

Now she was out playing Russian Roulette because it felt better than walking around barefoot on the concrete from fast food restaurant to grocery store to real estate office. If only she'd listened to her parents and actually finished that college degree before becoming head wife of Vlad's harem. It had seemed like a good decision at the time.

Verona's eyes watched the smoke from her cigarette trail off across the room into the darkness and the silhouetted outlines of the other patrons. The darkness helped. Maybe it was a vampire thing, but she felt warm and secure in the darkness. Across the room a pair of startling emerald green eyes were watching her quietly. Verona had been ignoring them for the last five minutes, and they had only moved closer. At closer scrutiny she could tell that they were attatched to the squarely cut face of a gigantically statured man. Gigantic. He had to be seven feet tall, and she could see the powerful muscles in his chest ripple and contract through the opening of his white collar. Verona let her eyes meet his again, he was smiling now, and his dark blonde hair was falling over his eyes mischievously.

As she watches he unfolds his arms from across his chest and shifts to his feet. Her breath starts catching in her throat as he walks closer, close enough to touch.

The man leans down and stares deeply into her eyes. Then he sits on the stool next to her and snaps his fingers at the bartender.

Verona feels a shiver run down her spine, his eyes never leave her face, never let her go.

He reaches across and covers her hand with his own, "Bond." His voice is deep and husky and strangely familiar, "James Bond."

* * *

"First thing I want to know is who let a dog pound that looks like _this_ get built in the middle of Los Angeles!" Dracula shouts over the driving snow and stares up at the tall and rather imposing fortress.

"Well Van Helsing just grabbed hold of us and jumped over the gate," Anna says snootily, "If you can't jump that high I guess they'll just have to remain unrescued until the end of their days."

"Of course I can jump that high." Dracula says quickly, "I just choose not to."

"Well _why_? Van Helsing said that jumping over the fence was the only way to get into a dim and dismal doom dead fortress."

"Van Helsing is a moron."

"But he got us inside in like thirty seconds." Anna pouts. "It worked better than _your_ plan is working."

"Shh! Someone's coming!"

"Isn't that a good thing? Aren't you going to turn them into a vampire and your undead mindless slave so they'll let us inside."

Dracula squints at the approaching figure. "Nope. Not this dude. I only vampirize young seductive virgin females."

Stephen Sommers looks disappointed.

"Oh no!" Anna cries, "He's getting away! Vlad can't you make an exception? That's the fourth guy you've let go."

"You'd think that at least _one_ virgin female works at a place called Penny's Poodle Parlor."

"Ya think? How come only men are going inside?"

"You're so picky." Stephen Sommers complains. "I should have written you gay. But then Anne Rice would have sued me."

"Can't you just magic us inside?" Anna asks. "You magic-ed us to Steve's house."

"Don't be boring! Use my powers more than once? That's ridiculous." Dracula sniffs and goes back to hiding behind the bushes.

"But I'm _hungry_."

"I have to _go._"

"Are we _there_ yet?"

Carl, Trixie, and Igor look pleadingly up at Dracula.

Dracula raises his hand and using his 'stare of doom' forces them to sit down and shut up.

"Hey you could use that power to mind-control the guard." Anna suggests.

"Nope, too late. Already used it once."

"Well then use another one."

Dracula thinks about this for a while, "Well…I guess that I could…" He does the 'jazz hands' thing and the entire animal shelter is re-painted a vivid green. "Nope, wrong one."

"That's a dumb superpower." Carl comments.

Dracula telekinetically makes Carl slap himself.

"You were telekinetic all this time and you never told us?" Anna yells, "You could have just picked the lock from a distance and then we could have snuck in. And you didn't _TELL_ us you were telekinetic and then you WASTED it on Carl?"

Dracula shrugs.

"That is so DUMB!" Anna howls despairingly.

Dracula smiles beatifically, "Don't worry. I have a plan B."

Anna rolls her eyes.

Dracula snaps his fingers and everyone stands up and follows him out from behind the bushes, into the middle of the sidewalk, up the path, through the giant barricaded gate and up the receptionist.

"Hello, we're looking to adopt a dog." Dracula smiles kindly at the exhausted looking woman.

"Great, take your pick. All I need is an ID and the sixty dollar adoption fee." Dracula reaches into his cape pocket and pulls out a leather billfold. "I'm not a U.S. Citizen, but I have a Work Visa."

"Country of origin?"

"Australia."

"Ok, go through the door on the left and get your dog, Mr. Roxburgh." The lady takes a look at Dracula's ID.

"Actually," Dracula says. "I was wondering if you happened to bring in two gigantic wolfhounds from Disneyland."

"Oh, in that case, you want the door on the right."

"Can I just adopt them now?" Dracula pulls out a leopard-print credit card.

The receptionist's eyes go wide and green. "Sure. Why not?'

"Just keep the credit card." Dracula offers, "I don't need it anymore."

Anna sighs and burbles her lips together. Carl and Trixie are holding their noses against the smell.

"Just walk in and ask?" Stephen Sommers comments dramatically, "I never would have thought of that."

* * *

"Strewth Mate."

"I'm sorry sir. It just keeps disappearing."

"Well don't let it happen again. This is the third bloody time today I've been out here."

"I'm notifying VISA as we speak sir."

* * *

"Help get me away from him!"

"Eew don't touch me!"

Dracula leans against the bars of Van Helsing and Velkan's cell. "Nice to meet again Gabriel."

Van Helsing points a finger at Dracula and begins coughing, "You, you were the… If I was the left hand of God Archangel Gabriel then _you _were the right hand of God Archangel Michael and all of this is a joke and you're really not going to kill me because you're a good guy and God wouldn't like it?"

Dracula makes soothing noises and nods placatingly, "Yes yes, it's all a joke. Wait until you hear the punch line."

Carl is chanting 'burn them' in the background.

Velkan immediately runs to Anna and kisses her passionately on the lips. "I missed you so much! Van Helsing slobbers in his sleep."

Anna comforts her brother in siblingly fashion. "There there."

Igor and Trixie carefully copy Anna's movements, giggling.

Stephen Sommers stares up at the ceiling doing nothing.

Dracula grabs Van Helsing by the ear and turns to face the camera. "Dearly Beloved." He intones and gives a hearty yank to the ear. "We are gathered here at last to see justice finally done!"

Lightning cracks in the background and the yogurt covered Portuguese speaking cameramen look up from their Jacuzzi party and begin clapping.

"Poetic justice such as the world has never seen before!" Dracula continues.

The clapping gets louder. The author leans down from h/s/I's perch in the ceiling.

Dracula points first at Anna and Velkan. "These gypsy royalty are innocent of all crimes except being a Barbie and a werewolf. In the tradition of royal siblings everywhere throughout all the centuries I pronounce them man and wife." He snaps his fingers.

"Hey wait," Carl says. "You can't do that. That's _my_ job. _I'm_ the clergy around here." He clears his throat. "I pronounce you man and wife."

Anna looks pleased and she and Velkan do ballet off into the sunset. They kinda float up to the clouds and become fuzzy. Like Sleeping Beauty in one of the Mouse Movies.

The cameramen clap in awe.

"And on that same note, my faithful servant Igor has found a buxom gal too." Dracula glances at Igor. "Erm, children in the audience, ignore what they are doing. Anyway, I pronounce them man and woman."

Igor looks up blissfully, "Hmm?"

"I said I pronounce you man and woman."

Igor breaks away from Trixie in astonishment. "You mean I'm a real boy now?"

"Yes."

"And I won't have to wear these grungy clothes?"

"Not if you don't want to."

"They kinda turn me on." Trixie says admiringly.

Igor and Trixie walk off into the sunset too. As they reach the sunset it becomes infected with the black plague and melts into a fetid mass of rot.

"And Stephen Sommers." Dracula claps his hand across Stephen Sommers' shoulders. "My good friend Stephen Sommers."

Stephen Sommers stops staring at the ceiling. "What is it Rox?"

Dracula leans down and smiles, "May your filmmaking talent always be associated with The Mummy Returns!"

"Now wait that's not fair." Stephen Sommers protests.

But it is too late! Ahahaha!

Dracula pushes Stephen Sommers off into the sunset with the rest of them.

The author cheers wildly.

"Burn him, Burn him." Carl begins chanting expectantly.

Dracula raises his hand, "No Carl, we must first offer forgiveness if he begs for it."

"You want me to beg for forgiveness?" Van Helsing asks. Dracula kicks him in the gut. "Ow, Ok. Please forgive me?"

Dracula looks at him for a moment. A hint of understanding creeps in around the corners of his eyes. Here is a man who has suffered as much as he has. "All right," Dracula says finally. "I'll forgive you. Carl, where's that lighter fluid I gave you to hold?"

"Burn him, burn him." Carl says happily.

"That's a fantastic idea except for one thing." Dracula says. "Gabriel is immortal, just like me, and impossible to kill."

Carl ponders this for a while.

Van Helsing looks hopeful.

"Burn him anyways?" Carl suggests.

"It will be fun while it lasts," Dracula agrees. "And we can do it again once were through."

"Yay!" Carl says happily.

Carl and Dracula walk arm in arm happily into the sunset, dragging Van Helsing behind them.

* * *

"So this is your yacht." Verona leans against the solitary mast in the middle of a makeshift raft.

James Bond steps closer to her, so close that she can feel his body heat. "Just a temporary one."

Verona closes her eyes and sighs. "But my children, how will we get them all on the raft."

"They can fly, can't they?"

Verona nods at the pure logic of this. "You've been so kind to me."

"I've always wanted to raise a bunch of children." James Bond runs his hand up her bare arm and squeezes it gently. "Would you like to go to South America with me?"

"Oh yes." Verona answers happily. She looks up at the sky blissfully, watching the red-gold sunset against the cliffs. "What's that smoke?"

"Just our sendoff." James Bond says, weighing anchor and letting them drift off onto the vast orange-blue waters.

* * *

(Insert WB theme music) Da da da da de de de da du du du duuuuu Du da da da du de deeewwwwooooouuup. Well that's all folks.

Join us next week for the new NOVA series on something else. Goodbye!

Here ends my pathetic attempt at writing in third person present tense. I should really go for something like second person reverse chronology future tense. That would be creepy enough for a sequel. Until then. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOIU to all readers and ESPECIALLY anyone who ever _reviewed_ UPON WHOM I HEREBY BESTOW THE HONORARY 'ORDER OF THE DRAGON' On behalf of Dracula, who is leaning over my shoulder from where I own him and telling me what to type.

Oh yeah. Did I say that I owned Dracula?


End file.
